FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Marian's life was one of responsibilities. To the people of Nottingham, she owed peace and prosperity. To her husband, she owed a kind, caring hand. She saw herself not as an individual entity, but as a collection of obligations to other people. She couldn't name what aspect of herself belonged to herself.

Still, she was not without gratitude. Once Prince John entered prison, life in Nottingham returned to happier days. Robin Hood took Marian in marriage, and, owing to Marian's heritage, the two occupied a position in nobility. Marian was for want of nothing. Perhaps there was something more she desired, something she couldn't name, but she had no justification for it. She couldn't allow herself that greed.

On May Day, she tried to forget that inner nagging. Like every year, the first day of May brought a bright sun. Floral scents carried on the wind, and the sun's rays lit the land in soothing warmth. The townsfolk of Nottingham celebrated with a lively festival. The affair took place in a grassy clearing not five minutes from Hood castle, full of games and music and merriment. A tall and broad-chested rooster, Alan-A-Dale, strummed his lute while singing of old glories and comical farces. A crowd of young and old alike listened and laughed.

Marian strolled through the fair with Robin by her side. Her long, carnation-dyed dress hung loose around her lithe legs. They featured the smallest, subtlest curves under fuzzy, orange fur. Although they widened a smidge into her graceful hips, her body immediately curved back inward for her tiny waist, cinched tight by her bodice. Behind, her fluffy tail swished eagerly, unable to hide the joy she felt with Robin. Her bosom was two delicate portions of softness upon her chest. Aside from the slim portion of padding over her rump, her breasts were the only cushioning afforded to her.

Society expected young women to have scrawny, flimsy bodies, especially before their first child. Marian was inside of a body that fit the part. She felt as if her pelt wrapped immediately over her bones, with nothing in between. Marian prided herself on her body's jagged edges and thin contours, unpleasant though they were.

She looked to Robin with a smile.

His hand held hers as he casually walked beside her. Robin donned a simple, green tunic and brown hose.

Although Marian had wanted him to wear something more regal--perhaps his black shirt and that puffy, blue jacket--she had opted to stay silent. Robin always objected to stuffy garb. In order to preserve the good nature of the celebration, Marian had kept her opinion to herself.

And it had worked, as he was happy. Not a care in the world showed in his easy smile and bright eyes.

Marian turned from his face to her feet, where she spotted an umber toad. She released Robin's hand to kneel and scoop the toad in her hands. "Careful, little one. I nearly stepped on you." She set it aside, pointing it away from the fairgrounds and towards the forest. She rose and took Robin's hand again.

Their marriage had been successful, if not particularly joyful. The two lovers never doubted their commitment to each other. Still, Robin yearned for adventure and mischief, while Marian sought to keep their home in order. Many an argument had stemmed from Robin as he chafed against his obligations at court. Marian's duties had essentially doubled as she took on Robin's share, leaving her resentful. She couldn't decide how much she was to blame for Robin's behavior, or whether her only fault was expecting him to take on his allotted duties.

So, today was a perfect day for the couple. Lacking any responsibilities, Robin was free to demonstrate his endless charm, and Marian was free to soak it all in.

He did so currently, gabbing about a strongman game that he had just played. "I think I could do it. It's all in the technique. I should've led with my right foot, not my left." When Robin had struck the lever with a mallet, the puck only travelled halfway up the board to its bell.

Marian giggled at his obnoxious posturing. "Oh, Robin. You don't need to be strong. I like you just the way you are."

His face lit up, and his chest puffed, like a cock strutting his feathers. "Really? Well, alright. That's fine by me."

She nestled her cheek against his shoulder. "So, what should we do next?"

She waited, but Robin never responded. His eyes pointed somewhere into the crowd.

Marian followed his gaze over to a wooden table. The table was smattered in crumbs and dotted with pie filling. A chipmunk and a badger sat in chairs, while a hippo stood. All three women were incredibly fat. Beside the hippo, a goat offered a blue ribbon to the hippo. Apparently, the pie eating contest had just concluded.

And Robin stared at those women. Despite attending the fair with Marian, his gaze lingered on women other than his spouse.

Marian deserved his affection, not a gaggle of well-fed harlots. She cleared her throat. "Robin!"

He shook his head, then looked to her. "Uh--yes, m'lady?"

She jerked her head away. "You know as well as I that staring is impolite." She peeked an eye his way to watch his reaction.

Robin chuckled with a red hue in his cheeks. "I wasn't staring. I was lost in thought, that's all."

Marian rolled her eyes. "A most likely tale." She looked away from Robin again. With her eyes cast back to the pie eating contest, she couldn't deny that the women were beautiful. Each one overflowed with supple, succulent curves that made them alluring and welcoming.

The chipmunk's feet spread far apart in a posture of decadent luxury. Her blue dress had hitched up, baring her pudgy, brown calves. Time had been kind to her body, softening her very extremities. Her thighs splayed copiously past the edges of the chair and pulled her dress taut, so that its stretched threads groped every roll of her fat. The tightness in her clothing flaunted her body's sumptuous rolls rather than hiding them. Her ass spilled even farther behind her and dangled just above the ground, gushing her superfluous extravagance beyond the confines of a meager chair.

As she slumped down in her seat, a small portion of her stomach draped as far as her knees, compressed into a round roll by her dress. Her upper stomach bloated outward in a dome so perfectly spherical that it was more than just flab squashed into a dress. No, her globular middle stretched as wide as her vast hips and towered higher than her nose. The woman had made a monument of herself, stuffed so full with food that her stomach overshadowed the rest of her. There was something primal, something powerful beyond words, in someone engorging themselves to such an extent.

Her bloated gut pushed her breasts aside, slumped between her belly and chest. Their wayward droop testified to the turgid might of her packed middle. Soft, flabby arms dangled at her sides. Her biceps' flab spread broad against her waist as if to hug her stiff stomach with plush, yielding flesh.

Purple pie filling dripped from her chubby digits. Those insignificant smatterings were the remnants of countless pies now churning away within her. Over corpulent, fruit-speckled cheeks, her eyelids drifted blearily. The chipmunk had performed admirably, and she well deserved the food coma about to visit her.

Next to her sat a badger, who occupied the opposite posture. She leaned forward in her chair, with open legs to straddle its seat. Her legs were open not in a relaxed stance, but like an athlete buckling down in determination. Her fat thighs molded around the edges of the seat and stretched her red dress. Their girth was so wide, and they looked so heavy, as if grounding and securing her.

Surely, her stomach was the force that inspired her strained posture. Her belly, round like a boulder, dipped out of her dress, flowed past the chair, and nearly touched the grass beneath. The round sphere looked positively stuffed to the brim. The badger's stance kept her belly aloft while maximizing the room it had to digest. Marian could only imagine how tender and tight that stomach must have been, and she wished the woman a good stomach rub to aid its speedy digestion.

The badger herself could not employ her own hands to rub her stomach. They were busy gripping the table. Her arms reached over her colossal stomach, where her elbows barely met the tabletop. Without that table, she would have certainly toppled to the ground from the weight of her gut. The badger's breasts didn't help. They plopped wide over the table and pushed her arms far apart. By lifting her breasts, the table prevented them from weighing on her stomach, which must have provided some measure of relief to the badger. Between plump cheeks, she huffed haggardly. Each breath must have been an effort. Her wheezing, red face struggled mightily, evidently recovering from a heroic effort.

The hippo stood arrogantly in a yellow dress. Her wide stance balanced her weight atop two meaty legs. This was not luxury or recovery, but instead, pride. Thick layers of adipose pushed her thighs apart and forced her legs to spread. Her very body occupied space, daring to claim volume for itself.

A titanic gut jutted forward from her. It hovered down to her knees, and it protruded wider than her waist. She was not resting under it or recovering over it. She raised it with confidence, even as the colossal mass tugged on her back. It was immense, but she made it hers, all the same. Not that she did so effortlessly. It trembled as she drew slow, tired breaths. She held her hands to her back, seemingly to counterbalance the weight tugging on her front.

Her breasts poured over her stomach, resting their plump weight across its broad peak. Their luscious curves imparted a feminine, dazzling beauty to her stocky, corpulent bulk. Though her face drooped with fatigue, she bore an unmistakable grin across her big, round snout and thick lips. She let the goat judge affix the ribbon to her dress, since her hands were too busy supporting her back.

While Marian walked along, she observed their curvaceous figures. A mysterious longing welled in her chest.

It was not of the romantic sort. She knew well the craving of romance. That craving was reserved for Robin Hood. Despite his faults, Robin Hood occupied the whole of her ruttish desires.

She looked aside to Robin. His plain tunic and rugged hose, though unbefitting of his station, did well to expose the lean muscle along his calves and thighs, the taut flatness of his abs, and the broad power of his chest. His limber arms had a dashingly lean aspect to them. His sharp cheeks, vibrant fur, and fluffy tail added to his playful handsomeness.

But when Marian looked at the three heavyset women, she felt a desire that she couldn't place. She gazed at them longer than she should have, trying to figure it out, when she bumped into someone.

Before her staggered an aging crow in a gray gown. Her short stature leaned forward with a hunching back, and she looked fragile under her dark clothes. Still, her black beak curved to a sharp, cutting point. Its dangerous tip didn't belong on such a meek body. A sudden chill emanated from her.

Marian stepped back, recoiling in fear. Quickly, she saw that her fright was misplaced, and she had been rude. "I'm terribly sorry. I wasn't watching where I was walking." She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't considered those around her.

The crow's eyes met Marian's and glistened. Her voice wavered in a shaky cadence. "I saw that distant look in your eyes, my dear. A matter beckons you away from your present circumstances. Mind that you don't bump into any other poor spinsters on the way to your destination."

The words struck Marian. Her thoughts had distracted her, yes, but the old crow spoke about it with nonchalant certainty, like Marian's concerns were as clear as day. An instinct told Marian that the old crow knew something that she didn't, irrational though that was. But Marian was being rude again, staring at the crow while she thought. "Of course. Please, enjoy the festival."

Robin tugged on Marian's hand. "Hey, look at that!"

His other hand pointed to a small wooden rack, which showcased a shawl. The pearlescent cloth gleamed in the sunlight with a graceful beauty. It was tasteful, not gaudy. Its purity and brilliance would bring glamor to any woman who wore it about her shoulders. A hare stood next to the rack. His white fur contrasted against his bright blue shirt and vibrant red pants. He waved a cane and shouted, beckoning one and all to try their hand at a game of horseshoes.

Marian gazed at the shawl. She had not chosen her body, but she had chosen her clothing, and she found an inherent pleasure in donning her figure with joyful pieces. "Oh my, that is wonderful."

Robin's voice boomed with swagger and gusto. "I thought you'd like it. The perfect shawl for the perfect lady. Now, watch the master at work." Robin let go of her hand and marched up to the hare barker. "One game of horseshoes, please." He slapped a gold coin in the hare's hand.

The hare spoke in a slick, speedy cadence. "Here's the rules. You get four horseshoes, and you stand behind this here line." He pointed to a white chalk line on the ground. "You throw to that there stake," he said while gesturing his cane to a wooden stake some three yards away. "If you land all four on that stake, this beautiful article is yours." He gestured a hand to the shawl. "Any questions?"

Robin's hands defiantly gripped his hips. "Yeah. Are you ready to hand over the prize?"

The hare stifled a laugh, then handed Robin a set of four horseshoes. "Sir."

Robin gripped the horseshoes in one hand, put his left foot behind him, and reeled his right arm back. Then, in one fluid motion, he slung his hand forward and let loose the horseshoe. It spun through the air, directly to its target. With a dull thump, the horseshoe hit the stake and fell to the ground.

Marian clapped. "Good, good! Well done, Robin!" As her arms shook in cheer, a small piece of paper slipped from her sleeve's cuff. She hadn't noticed it before. The torn scrap drifted to the ground. Curious, she picked it up. In smudged, black ink, the note read, "Nottingham Forest at midnight." She didn't recognize its scrawled, jagged handwriting, so it certainly wasn't from Robin. Perhaps a maid had snuck it in her sleeve before she dressed for the day. Nobody else had gotten close enough to place such an item on her. She read the note over and over, trying to decipher its purpose.

A shimmering cloth wrapped around her neck and over her shoulders. Robin stood behind her, with his arms reaching around her in an embrace. His firm chest pressed into her back and made her feel secure, while his warm, friendly breath blew past her cheek. "Ta-da! Well? What do you think?"

She looked down at the shawl. "Oh, my. It's wonderful!" She stroked it with her hand. Silky, the cloth felt exquisite. "Oh, and it's so smooth. Thank you ever so much!" It was one thing to witness Robin's skill, but it was another when he dedicated that skill to her. She turned around to face Robin, then threw her arms around him. Her lips met his.

His lips, pliant and warm, tasted as sweet as the day they'd married.

Marian cherished the wordless moment, basking in Robin's tender embrace. She savored his care, then backed out of the kiss.

A sheepish grin betrayed his boyish attraction. "So, about me staring at the pie eating contest..."

She didn't like that he had looked, but he hadn't done any more than that. Marian couldn't permit herself to get hung up on just looking. She craned her head forward, bopping his nose with hers. "Think nothing of it. But I expect you to remember who you're married to."

Robin stroked her chin. "Only the most kind, wonderful, and beautiful woman in all the kingdom." His compliments were so simple, so direct, so obvious. Yet, that nakedness gave them an earnest quality. Even the simple brush of his finger on her chin made her feel like Robin held her, treasured her.

Exiting the hug, Marian rode a wave of affection, and she only wanted to flow with it further. "Come. I want to go see Alan-A-Dale, don't you?"

He nodded happily. "That sounds like a fine time to me." His eyes lingered on her and her alone.

Then, Marian recalled, she had bumped into that crow. The old woman couldn't possibly have inserted a note into Marian's sleeve, much less without Marian herself noticing. And yet, Marian couldn't shake the notion from her mind. Holding the note between her fingers, she felt the chilly essence of that crow. It was silly to go, of course. She had no reason to obey a note that had appeared from nowhere. Even as Marian tucked the scrap back into her sleeve, she resolved to ignore its summoning. She didn't owe it to the crow woman, after all.

Marian was well acquainted with the process of falling asleep. It was more like waiting than falling, though. If she laid still for long enough, her body would assume its responsibility and put her mind to rest. However, on the night of May Day, sleep failed to come for Marian. For hours on end, she laid next to Robin.

He laid there, snoozing peacefully. In the scant moonlight, he looked angelic, until his lips sputtered. "Hungh... take that..."

Marian watched him carefully. After laying awake for so long, the mysterious note nagged at her. "Nottingham Forest at midnight," it commanded her. The more she expelled it from her mind, the more it demanded her attention. But if Robin was awake, she didn't want to leave. That would risk drawing his curiosity. If he asked her where she was headed, she couldn't confess her intentions. She couldn't admit that she was so foolishly, so irrationally, obeying a note of suspect origin.

Despite the grin on his face, Robin's eyes stayed shut. "Haha... Little John..." He was just dreaming. He would not grant Marian the excuse to ignore her note.

The pair shared a bed with a fluffy, soothing mattress. Her light body barely made a dent in it, but she cherished its heavenly softness. She took comfort in its broad, plush material, even as anxiety swirled in her middle. The enormous bed could have fit six Marians side by side. She wondered who would be so large as to require such a massive bed.

Idle thoughts like those wouldn't resolve her anxiety. Only one thing would. She slid out of bed. As her naked body emerged from the bedsheets, the night's chill brushed through her fur. Outside the castle, owls hooted and crickets chirped, and their distant chatter carried in through Marian's bedroom window. She wandered to that window, adding her pattering footpads to the short list of nighttime sounds.

Not far off, she gazed at the familiar Nottingham Forest. A faint, pink fog hung over it. She looked directly below, one story down, to the ground. Grass glistened cool in the Moon's shine. Then, she looked upward to find the Moon. She located it directly overhead. To her chagrin, it was midnight.

Marian and Robin kept one wardrobe each, two ornately carved pieces of a pair. She departed the bedroom window and walked around their bed to reach hers, just next to the door. Her delicate hands parted open its doors to reveal a wide array of clothes. Some sporty and others restrictive, some plain and others elaborate, they all served to decorate her body and celebrate its perfection. For her clandestine meeting, she chose one of her more private pieces, her favorite nightgown. She plucked a long, flowing gown of sheer pink with frilled cuffs. She raised its light cloth over her head, then let it fall about her as she slipped her arms into its sleeves. Her footpads delicately tiptoed to the bedroom door. There, she carefully opened it, slipped through, and gently shut it behind her. She had made her choice, all without a single sound.

Beside their bedroom door, a burning torch lit the castle hallway. Nearby stairs led to the first floor. If she took the stairs all the way down, she would encounter the castle guards. They were there to protect her, but she wanted to stay hidden. She could barely confess this irrational trek to herself, let alone anyone else.

But she didn't have to take the stairs all the way down. Instead, light and noiseless, she drifted halfway down the stone staircase. There, she stopped at a window. The window was slender, but she was moreso. She placed a foot on its sill and slinked into it. Stonework pressed around her shoulders. Looking below, the ground was six, maybe seven feet away. Her foot pushed off, and she flew, light as a feather.

She landed on the ground with a soft rustle of grass. It tickled her feet with slender, cool strokes. Marian cast her gaze left and right, and she found no onlookers. Still, the open air of the night left her feeling naked and exposed. So, she scampered towards the nearby woods.

Cold air chilled her as she cut through it. As she ran, the night air grew brighter, and subtle droplets of moisture appeared on her fur. That was the pink fog she had witnessed from above. She approached the closest tree of the forest, but the one behind it was faint, covered in a shroud of fog, and the rest of the forest was hidden. She slowed to a walk to study her surroundings, visually challenging as they were. She passed by one tree and pressed her hand into its bark. The feel of its rough texture grounded herself in reality more than her sight could. From there, she couldn't see her way to any other tree. Embarking out into the endless pink sea, she stepped forward. The mist overtook her. The ground itself remained as her only reference point to the rest of the world. She had come too far to turn back now. Trepidation and anxiety turned to determination as her prior choices left her no alternative option in the moment. She put one foot in front of the other. To alter her course would risk losing her way.

A blurry mass darkened from within the fog.

Marian halted to study its shape. She knew of no such object within the forest, and she could not determine what she saw. The lack of knowledge, her inability to answer her own question, clenched her chest tight. She was no slave to her fears, though. She pressed on.

The mist thinned around that mass. Its form revealed to Marian from a few yards away. It was a small, stone house with a thatched roof. Its chimney expelled plumes of pink smoke. No such house existed within Nottingham Forest, she was sure of that. Yet she was also certain that she had not left Nottingham Forest. Despite the late hour, she was not dreaming, either.

From inside, an elderly crow popped her head through the front window. Not an elderly crow--the elderly crow, sharp beak and all. Her high voice wavered like nails on a chalkboard. "There you are. I was starting to think you'd never come. But I should've known better than to doubt myself." She left the window and passed behind her wall. A moment later, the front door opened, revealing her on the other side. "Come on in."

This woman's house was at the center of the universe, with all else blotted out by thick layers of pink gauze. Marian had little choice but to go inside.

Crossing the threshold, she found warmth. Candles, set in tall sticks on the floor, cast the walls in orange light. The back wall of the house was covered. A bookshelf lined half of that wall, stocked end to end with aging tomes. An open pantry lined the other half, full of jars, utensils, and other odds and ends. At the center, a bubbling cauldron sat over a crackling flame. A dank, earthen funk wafted from its roiling contents.

The crow shut the door behind Marian. "Welcome to my humble abode. I don't host many visitors, so it's always a treat. May I get anything for you, dearie? Some moss tea or toad eye cookies?" She shuffled to Marian's front and looked up into her face.

Marian's stomach turned at the sound of those offerings. She stuffed away her disgust politely. "No, thank you very much. To be frank, I didn't intend to come. I found your note quite suspicious. Then, something inside me beckoned me to come, almost against my own will."

The crow cawed with screeching laughter. "You are not the first visitor to tell me as much. I don't understand the effect myself."

Conversation held no interest for Marian. She merely wanted to conclude her business here, whatever it was, so that she could go back. "I must know, though: why did you give me that note?"

"Allow me to be direct. I see myself in you." She paced her house with her hands clasped behind her. "Believe it or not, I was once a young lass like yourself. The entire world laid before me. I could have taken my pick of husband. My qualities exceeded my station, and I would have made a respectable wife and a fine mother. Yet, I felt out of place in that world." With a sudden spin, she faced Marian. The crow's eyes caught Marian's, piercing her. "You, my dear, belong wholly in your world. But not in your body."

A foreboding weight sank in Marian's gut. Once the crow had pointed it out, Marian could no longer deny the truth. She felt a terrible gulf between her self and her body. She stepped back, towards the door. "My body is perfectly suitable, thank you very much. Even if it was not, it is the only one that I have."

The crow cocked a brow with a smirk. "That is my specialty. I did not belong in the world of domestic responsibility, of nobility and commoners, of rules. Once I recognized that, I sought the tutelage of a coven. There, I studied the dark arts. And in that place, I belonged. Not only is there a unique thrill to the supernatural, but there is a unique pride, as well. Not many can provide the transcendent assistance that I offer to you now. It is my calling to help others when the limitations of our material realm hold them back."

Marian took one more step backward. "You have many words, old woman, but none of them address the current moment. Why did you request my presence?" She wanted so badly to leave, yet she could not. Not before she had found the reason she came.

"I see the energy within you. Your body holds back another form, placing your flesh in constant tension. Magical knots bind you. They only need be untied."

With a quivering hand, Marian grasped the door handle. "I should not have come here."

The crow held up a winged hand. "Please, before you do, grant this old woman one favor. I ask you to look in my cauldron."

A silent moment passed, where no words were uttered, and the cauldron's rolling boil filled the air.

Marian wanted to step back. She wanted to leave. But she needed to know what was in the crow's cauldron. Trembling, she walked forward. As she approached, the fire's heat sweltered hotter. She looked to the crow.

The crow nodded down, towards the cauldron.

Marian looked inside.

From within the burbling mass, she found a pink, roundish mass. Bubbles rose and popped, distorting the image, but in a few moments, the image sharpened. At the top of the mass, there curved two outcroppings, like floppy ears. At the bottom of it, a plump chin hung from a thick lower lip. At its sides, pudgy cheeks puffed outward. The middle of the image came into focus, forming a thick, round snout. Above that, the pig's face held gentle eyes, elegant yet caring. Brilliant dashes of mahogany red glinted in them.

As Marian gazed into the face, no thoughts came to her mind. She stood still over the cauldron. Something unconscious compelled her to look upon it. Once Marian realized her unthinking state, she pulled away. "What is the meaning of this vision? I see nothing more than a sow. Stop wasting my time."

Slowly, gently, the crow shook her head. "That vision is you."

Marian cackled. "You are mad. I can see there is nothing here aside from the nonsensical ravings of a demented, old woman." She had wasted her time. She had known this was irrational.

The crow remained calm. "You protest, but somewhere inside you is the knowledge that I am correct. That cauldron shows you the body to which your soul belongs."

Shouting, Marian hoped to push back the crow's claim by force of speech. "And if I believed you, what would you do about it?"

The crow reached to her pantry. She took a wineskin in one hand and a ladle in her other. Then, after turning to the cauldron, she scooped from the frothing mass and poured it into the wineskin. She sealed it, and she held it towards Marian. "This draught will give you that body which is yours. For your own sake, drink it."

Paralysis gripped Marian. She couldn't accept the skin. She couldn't leave it here.

The crow's brow drooped, as if pitying. "If I am mad, as you say, simply take it. Think of it as a favor to this old woman. Then, you may pour it out on the ground."

Marian could do that. She could take the drink, step outside of the crow's house, and dump it right on the ground. With a shaky hand, she grabbed the wineskin. "I need to drink it, right? That is, according to your insane direction."

The crow calmly nodded.

Marian inched towards the front door. "Far be it from me to deny an old woman her request." Keeping her eye on the crow, she reached behind to open the front door. She extended a foot past the threshold. Then, in one swift motion, she turned herself towards the woods and darted outside. She saw every single tree, and she deftly passed them on her right and left. She hurried away from the crow's house as fast as her feet would carry her. Her gown fluttered in the night chill.

Only after a few seconds of running did she realize that the fog had lifted. She could see through the forest to the castle. Stopping a moment, she looked over her shoulder, where she had run from. She could no longer find the crow's house. All the better. She had no need for it. Just as she had no use for her disgusting potion.

There was no harm to keeping the wineskin, either.

Marian was well acquainted with the process of falling asleep. It was more like waiting than falling, though. If she laid still for long enough, her body would assume its responsibility and put her mind to rest. However, on the night of May Day, sleep failed to come for Marian. For hours on end, she laid next to Robin.

He laid there, snoozing peacefully. In the scant moonlight, he looked angelic, until his lips sputtered. "Hungh... take that..."

Marian watched him carefully. After laying awake for so long, the mysterious note nagged at her. "Nottingham Forest at midnight," it commanded her. The more she expelled it from her mind, the more it demanded her attention. But if Robin was awake, she didn't want to leave. That would risk drawing his curiosity. If he asked her where she was headed, she couldn't confess her intentions. She couldn't admit that she was so foolishly, so irrationally, obeying a note of suspect origin.

Despite the grin on his face, Robin's eyes stayed shut. "Haha... Little John..." He was just dreaming. He would not grant Marian the excuse to ignore her note.

The pair shared a bed with a fluffy, soothing mattress. Her light body barely made a dent in it, but she cherished its heavenly softness. She took comfort in its broad, plush material, even as anxiety swirled in her middle. The enormous bed could have fit six Marians side by side. She wondered who would be so large as to require such a massive bed.

Idle thoughts like those wouldn't resolve her anxiety. Only one thing would. She slid out of bed. As her naked body emerged from the bedsheets, the night's chill brushed through her fur. Outside the castle, owls hooted and crickets chirped, and their distant chatter carried in through Marian's bedroom window. She wandered to that window, adding her pattering footpads to the short list of nighttime sounds.

Not far off, she gazed at the familiar Nottingham Forest. A faint, pink fog hung over it. She looked directly below, one story down, to the ground. Grass glistened cool in the Moon's shine. Then, she looked upward to find the Moon. She located it directly overhead. To her chagrin, it was midnight.

Marian and Robin kept one wardrobe each, two ornately carved pieces of a pair. She departed the bedroom window and walked around their bed to reach hers, just next to the door. Her delicate hands parted open its doors to reveal a wide array of clothes. Some sporty and others restrictive, some plain and others elaborate, they all served to decorate her body and celebrate its perfection. For her clandestine meeting, she chose one of her more private pieces, her favorite nightgown. She plucked a long, flowing gown of sheer pink with frilled cuffs. She raised its light cloth over her head, then let it fall about her as she slipped her arms into its sleeves. Her footpads delicately tiptoed to the bedroom door. There, she carefully opened it, slipped through, and gently shut it behind her. She had made her choice, all without a single sound.

Beside their bedroom door, a burning torch lit the castle hallway. Nearby stairs led to the first floor. If she took the stairs all the way down, she would encounter the castle guards. They were there to protect her, but she wanted to stay hidden. She could barely confess this irrational trek to herself, let alone anyone else.

But she didn't have to take the stairs all the way down. Instead, light and noiseless, she drifted halfway down the stone staircase. There, she stopped at a window. The window was slender, but she was moreso. She placed a foot on its sill and slinked into it. Stonework pressed around her shoulders. Looking below, the ground was six, maybe seven feet away. Her foot pushed off, and she flew, light as a feather.

She landed on the ground with a soft rustle of grass. It tickled her feet with slender, cool strokes. Marian cast her gaze left and right, and she found no onlookers. Still, the open air of the night left her feeling naked and exposed. So, she scampered towards the nearby woods.

Cold air chilled her as she cut through it. As she ran, the night air grew brighter, and subtle droplets of moisture appeared on her fur. That was the pink fog she had witnessed from above. She approached the closest tree of the forest, but the one behind it was faint, covered in a shroud of fog, and the rest of the forest was hidden. She slowed to a walk to study her surroundings, visually challenging as they were. She passed by one tree and pressed her hand into its bark. The feel of its rough texture grounded herself in reality more than her sight could. From there, she couldn't see her way to any other tree. Embarking out into the endless pink sea, she stepped forward. The mist overtook her. The ground itself remained as her only reference point to the rest of the world. She had come too far to turn back now. Trepidation and anxiety turned to determination as her prior choices left her no alternative option in the moment. She put one foot in front of the other. To alter her course would risk losing her way.

A blurry mass darkened from within the fog.

Marian halted to study its shape. She knew of no such object within the forest, and she could not determine what she saw. The lack of knowledge, her inability to answer her own question, clenched her chest tight. She was no slave to her fears, though. She pressed on.

The mist thinned around that mass. Its form revealed to Marian from a few yards away. It was a small, stone house with a thatched roof. Its chimney expelled plumes of pink smoke. No such house existed within Nottingham Forest, she was sure of that. Yet she was also certain that she had not left Nottingham Forest. Despite the late hour, she was not dreaming, either.

From inside, an elderly crow popped her head through the front window. Not an elderly crow--the elderly crow, sharp beak and all. Her high voice wavered like nails on a chalkboard. "There you are. I was starting to think you'd never come. But I should've known better than to doubt myself." She left the window and passed behind her wall. A moment later, the front door opened, revealing her on the other side. "Come on in."

This woman's house was at the center of the universe, with all else blotted out by thick layers of pink gauze. Marian had little choice but to go inside.

Crossing the threshold, she found warmth. Candles, set in tall sticks on the floor, cast the walls in orange light. The back wall of the house was covered. A bookshelf lined half of that wall, stocked end to end with aging tomes. An open pantry lined the other half, full of jars, utensils, and other odds and ends. At the center, a bubbling cauldron sat over a crackling flame. A dank, earthen funk wafted from its roiling contents.

The crow shut the door behind Marian. "Welcome to my humble abode. I don't host many visitors, so it's always a treat. May I get anything for you, dearie? Some moss tea or toad eye cookies?" She shuffled to Marian's front and looked up into her face.

Marian's stomach turned at the sound of those offerings. She stuffed away her disgust politely. "No, thank you very much. To be frank, I didn't intend to come. I found your note quite suspicious. Then, something inside me beckoned me to come, almost against my own will."

The crow cawed with screeching laughter. "You are not the first visitor to tell me as much. I don't understand the effect myself."

Conversation held no interest for Marian. She merely wanted to conclude her business here, whatever it was, so that she could go back. "I must know, though: why did you give me that note?"

"Allow me to be direct. I see myself in you." She paced her house with her hands clasped behind her. "Believe it or not, I was once a young lass like yourself. The entire world laid before me. I could have taken my pick of husband. My qualities exceeded my station, and I would have made a respectable wife and a fine mother. Yet, I felt out of place in that world." With a sudden spin, she faced Marian. The crow's eyes caught Marian's, piercing her. "You, my dear, belong wholly in your world. But not in your body."

A foreboding weight sank in Marian's gut. Once the crow had pointed it out, Marian could no longer deny the truth. She felt a terrible gulf between her self and her body. She stepped back, towards the door. "My body is perfectly suitable, thank you very much. Even if it was not, it is the only one that I have."

The crow cocked a brow with a smirk. "That is my specialty. I did not belong in the world of domestic responsibility, of nobility and commoners, of rules. Once I recognized that, I sought the tutelage of a coven. There, I studied the dark arts. And in that place, I belonged. Not only is there a unique thrill to the supernatural, but there is a unique pride, as well. Not many can provide the transcendent assistance that I offer to you now. It is my calling to help others when the limitations of our material realm hold them back."

Marian took one more step backward. "You have many words, old woman, but none of them address the current moment. Why did you request my presence?" She wanted so badly to leave, yet she could not. Not before she had found the reason she came.

"I see the energy within you. Your body holds back another form, placing your flesh in constant tension. Magical knots bind you. They only need be untied."

With a quivering hand, Marian grasped the door handle. "I should not have come here."

The crow held up a winged hand. "Please, before you do, grant this old woman one favor. I ask you to look in my cauldron."

A silent moment passed, where no words were uttered, and the cauldron's rolling boil filled the air.

Marian wanted to step back. She wanted to leave. But she needed to know what was in the crow's cauldron. Trembling, she walked forward. As she approached, the fire's heat sweltered hotter. She looked to the crow.

The crow nodded down, towards the cauldron.

Marian looked inside.

From within the burbling mass, she found a pink, roundish mass. Bubbles rose and popped, distorting the image, but in a few moments, the image sharpened. At the top of the mass, there curved two outcroppings, like floppy ears. At the bottom of it, a plump chin hung from a thick lower lip. At its sides, pudgy cheeks puffed outward. The middle of the image came into focus, forming a thick, round snout. Above that, the pig's face held gentle eyes, elegant yet caring. Brilliant dashes of mahogany red glinted in them.

As Marian gazed into the face, no thoughts came to her mind. She stood still over the cauldron. Something unconscious compelled her to look upon it. Once Marian realized her unthinking state, she pulled away. "What is the meaning of this vision? I see nothing more than a sow. Stop wasting my time."

Slowly, gently, the crow shook her head. "That vision is you."

Marian cackled. "You are mad. I can see there is nothing here aside from the nonsensical ravings of a demented, old woman." She had wasted her time. She had known this was irrational.

The crow remained calm. "You protest, but somewhere inside you is the knowledge that I am correct. That cauldron shows you the body to which your soul belongs."

Shouting, Marian hoped to push back the crow's claim by force of speech. "And if I believed you, what would you do about it?"

The crow reached to her pantry. She took a wineskin in one hand and a ladle in her other. Then, after turning to the cauldron, she scooped from the frothing mass and poured it into the wineskin. She sealed it, and she held it towards Marian. "This draught will give you that body which is yours. For your own sake, drink it."

Paralysis gripped Marian. She couldn't accept the skin. She couldn't leave it here.

The crow's brow drooped, as if pitying. "If I am mad, as you say, simply take it. Think of it as a favor to this old woman. Then, you may pour it out on the ground."

Marian could do that. She could take the drink, step outside of the crow's house, and dump it right on the ground. With a shaky hand, she grabbed the wineskin. "I need to drink it, right? That is, according to your insane direction."

The crow calmly nodded.

Marian inched towards the front door. "Far be it from me to deny an old woman her request." Keeping her eye on the crow, she reached behind to open the front door. She extended a foot past the threshold. Then, in one swift motion, she turned herself towards the woods and darted outside. She saw every single tree, and she deftly passed them on her right and left. She hurried away from the crow's house as fast as her feet would carry her. Her gown fluttered in the night chill.

Only after a few seconds of running did she realize that the fog had lifted. She could see through the forest to the castle. Stopping a moment, she looked over her shoulder, where she had run from. She could no longer find the crow's house. All the better. She had no need for it. Just as she had no use for her disgusting potion.

There was no harm to keeping the wineskin, either.

The wineskin soon faded from Marian's awareness. She had no need for a questionable potion from a strange woman. Other matters deserved her attention.

For instance, Marian had asked for Lady Kluck's assistance. She had devised a new pie recipe, and she wished to obtain Kluck's opinion before feeding it to Robin.

In the early afternoon, Marian and Lady Kluck strolled through the main hall of Castle Nottingham. A forest green carpet padded the path through a hallway of gray and tan stonework. This was the central artery of the castle, as attested by the number of doors on either side. The hallway was bookended by two significant rooms: the great hall on one end and the dining hall on the other.

Walking, Marian's headdress drifted about her pointed fox ears, while her skirt swished from her lithe hips. Each step carried her light weight softly down the carpet.

Lady Kluck waddled alongside her, bobbing side to side between heavy footfalls. Some described her gait as ungainly, but in truth, her plumpness added a certain dancelike quality to her stride. The hen's rotund legs swept wide around one another. They took turns rolling past each other, casting her thick thighs in broad, rhythmic arcs. They swished her flowing, sky blue dress, which itself merely complemented her already voluptuous movement. And the dance did not end there. Owing to her stomach's immensity, each step nudged her thighs up into her bounteous, bulbous belly. The plush, globular mass shifted opposite her rising leg. What a beautiful trick of gravity, that her leg should rise on her right and her belly should lean to her left, like a call and response in the very curves of her body. Kluck's pudgy shoulders waved her delicate, feathery arms. Her large, pendulous breasts followed the motion in her shoulders, swaying opposite her belly. Her bosom's softness was already readily apparent in its breadth. It spread across the top of her stomach and even under her arms. As she moved, her breasts swayed over her belly with a delay from her shoulders and a jiggle from her step that only emphasized their captivating suppleness.

Her face beamed with every bit as much welcoming padding as her body. Thick layers of fat cushioned her neck and chin, and bubbly cheeks girded her stiff beak. The fat of her face bounced with each plodding step.

Klucky was so wise, kind, resourceful, and moral. She had been more than a lady-in-waiting to Marian. She served as a role model in so many ways. It only followed that her figure was worthy of admiration, as well. Every plush, full curve of her thickly padded flesh was another ounce of fat that contributed to her beauty.

Seemingly ignorant of Marian's longing gaze, Kluck spoke. "I'm no stranger to the cummer of wifely cooking. My George--God rest his soul--would have eaten dryte had I but served it to him, and happily so. But I loved him, and I wanted the best for him, down to the last crumb." Her eyes glimmered. They pointed down the hallway, but they clearly gazed upon something only she could see, a fond memory.

Impressed by the poignance of Kluck's reverie, Marian nodded sheepishly. "Yes, I'm glad you understand. Thank you ever so much for lending your tongue." She had asked Lady Kluck to sample a pie recipe for her, ahead of serving it to Robin. And Marian had convinced herself that was her true motivation.

They approached the kitchen door on the left. It was a simple, oaken door with a rounded arch. Marian's palm pushed aside the heavy door. The kitchen ahead of her featured a broad, stone hearth, currently unlit. On the opposite wall, a wooden table offered room for preparing food. Chairs scattered about. In the back, a staircase led downward, into the cellar.

She stepped into the kitchen. Her body passed through the doorway with ample room. She held the door open.

Kluck ambled through after her. Her voluminous breadth alone occupied more than half of the doorway, but the wide sweep in her step carried through an even wider swath of the portal.

A sudden glee overtook Marian, and she skipped across the kitchen to the cellar staircase. She looked over her shoulder, back to Kluck. "Please, take a seat. I'll bring the pie right up." With that, she flew down the stairs on light, pattering footpads.

She descended into the cool, dark cellar. A torch in a wall sconce threw orange, flickering light onto wooden shelves. A nearby shelf held the four pies she had prepared for this moment. Alone, with only the torch's flame to see by, the darkness compelled her to eat a pie. She picked up the first one and gazed upon its flaky, salty crust. Marian recalled all of the savory meat she had baked within. She yearned to dig her face into it, shred it to pieces between her teeth, and swallow it all.

She resisted that call. Baking a pie just to consume it herself would have been selfish. Instead, she grabbed the second pie and stacked it atop the first, then the third, and then the fourth. She cradled all four pies in her arms, careful not to crack any. Cautiously, she ascended the stairs. The slow pace of her climb gave the pies' delectable, buttery fragrance more time to entice her nose. When Marian emerged in the kitchen, she blew a sigh of relief.

By then, Kluck had seated herself on a chair by the table. Her expansive figure hid the chair, with a waist wider than the chair's back, thighs that draped over the chair's seat, and calves that shielded the chair's legs from sight. Evidently, she had prepared to eat, since a knife and fork laid on the table next to her. She wasn't prepared enough, though, as her brows raised when she saw Marian. "Help ma boab! I thought there was but one pie."

Marian blushed. She had intentionally deceived Kluck, but still, the hen's loud, bold mannerisms always had an effect on her. Gingerly, she set all four pies down on the table. "Oh, silly me. I forgot I had made so many different kinds. But it truly is vitally important that I know your opinion on all four. And I want your honest, unfiltered opinion. I beg you not to pull your punches." She took the knife and cut a quarter out of the first pie, a meat pie. The knife passed easily through brittle crust and soft, mealy innards. She plucked the slice away from the rest, revealing its brown filling. Then, she took a chair next to Kluck.

Kluck shook her head. "I'm sure I won't have any punches to pull." She stabbed the fork through the tip of the pie slice. The morsel passed between her lips and disappeared into her beak. Instantly, her face fell sullen, and her eyes widened.

Marian's breath hitched. "It's that bad, is it?"

Frantically, Kluck waved her hand. "Nae! This gusts the gab, and then some. I've never tasted anything so good. Do you mind if I nam the rest of the slice?" Her cheeks pursed with a vibrant smile.

"No, of course not. Please, it would be my pleasure." Marian didn't realize just how true that claim was.

Kluck leaned forward and perched towards the table. The shift in her posture pushed her backside out, flaunting the vast curves of her doughy buns. Their plush heft weighed beyond the seat on all sides. As she leaned forward, her legs parted. Her thighs poured luscious fat from the edges of her seat, only for her dress to catch her flowing flesh in taut threads.

Her forward lean pressed her stomach between her legs and into the gap between her seat and the table. Kluck's stomach was every bit as jiggly as a bowl of jelly. Pushed forward so, she emphasized the large curves in her pronounced midsection. On account of its size, hanging from such a warm person, it was much sweeter than any bowl of jelly. The fluffy sack of cushy lard tugged her dress downward, as well, joining her legs on that front.

Two elbows met the tabletop to secure her posture. Her biceps billowed with flab, draped along her breasts in a large hug. Her wealthy breasts, overflowing with warm weight and kind curves, rested against the tabletop. Her thick arms pushed them together and plumped them upward. At the same time, her lower body tugged her dress downward, which pulled her neckline down along her bust. There, white feathers lined broad arcs of girthy fat, so large that their curves could only be but gentle. Graciously, her fat worked in concert to draw out her breasts, as if aware on some unconscious level of the comfort in their appearance. To behold Kluck's bosom was to feel a hug, without so much as a touch.

Above her breasts, Kluck's thick neck and cheeks softened her visage. Of course, her own eyes did not dote on her chest. They pointed over the rolling hills of her immense bosom and to the pie just past them.

She drove her fork through the pie. Swift and graceful, she pulled off a forkful, carried it over her chest, and swept it into her mouth. Her beak gyrated delicately, bobbing her bulbous cheeks. She took another bite.

In silence, Marian watched Kluck eat. She admired the way Lady Kluck's plump form elegantly lifted a bite from the pie, deposited it past her dainty lips, and swallowed it down. Kluck was already a big, beautiful woman, but Marian eagerly anticipated the way her food would contribute to Kluck's abundance of adipose.

Marian's chest tightened. A longing took hold of her for something more than just Kluck's growth. She could not grasp that desire, though. The nature of her longing slipped through her mind's fingers. She only knew that something felt right about Kluck eating.

The pie gradually disappeared into Lady Kluck's mouth in a series of dignified forkfuls and ladylike swallows. The simple grace of her chews was a delight in itself, pleasing Marian as she repeated the motion over and over. After swallowing the last bite, she sat back with a satisfied sigh. The chair creaked under her shifting bulk. Her love handles pooled against her hips, and her stomach retreated into her lap, where it settled wide over her tubby thighs. Her breasts departed the table and settled atop her belly in thick, expansive pillows. Every move of her body, no matter how minute, was a concert of shifting weight and grinding fat. "That was scrumptious. I'm sure Robin will adore it." Her wing rubbed her thick, bulging belly. The broad arc of her stroke illustrated just how generously fat she was.

As much as Marian enjoyed the sight before her, she hungered for more. Kluck's performance enriched Marian. It fed Marian in a way that she didn't comprehend, and she yearned for more. Marian reached towards another pie. "I can't thank you enough. Now, the next pie is a blueberry." Again, she grabbed the knife and sliced a quarter from the pie. With a delicate grasp, she pulled the slice away from the pie and set it by Kluck. This time, the pie contained a glistening, indigo filling.

Kluck licked the remaining grease and meat from her fork. Her tongue, delicate in texture but strong in force, pressed to the fork with a damp but barely audible noise. Alone with Lady Kluck, every subdued tone of her mastication rang clearly. Then, she cleaved the fork through the pie, squelching it. She lifted the small bite to her mouth and shut her beak with a subtle smack of her lips. She swallowed it in a dull thump.

A rich smile lit up her face, and she shook her head joyfully. "Mmph! You've done it again, lass. This pie will keep him right jauntie."

Marian hoped that Kluck would continue without intervention. Marian looked at the fork, as if her eyes could compel it to go back to the pie. She glanced at Kluck's beak with the foolish expectation that it would open up and take another bite.

Craning her head forward, Kluck addressed her. "Aye, was there anything else I could assist you with...?"

Only an intervention would do. Marian devised one on the spot. "Why, yes! I'm delighted that you enjoyed the first bite. But could you take another? I want to make sure the recipe is good all the way from the tip to the crust. If you could finish the slice, I would be grateful beyond measure." Marian clasped her hands together with wide, pleading eyes. The begging in her expression was genuine, even if her words were not.

Kluck drew a long sigh, slowly hefting her enormous breasts upward before settling them down with little trembles. She smirked, familiar and warm. "Alright, lass. But only because I love you so." Rather than leaning forward again, she turned her chair along the table, and she leaned sideways against the table. Now seated parallel to the table, her posture pointed her great, big stomach directly at Marian. Its drastic curve seemed to leap out at Marian, even while sitting inert in Kluck's lap.

Kluck's hand plucked the fork. She severed a mouthful of pie and placed it in her beak. As she chewed, her brow furrowed thoughtfully, only to speak after swallowing. "I wish I knew what made you so skeerie. Has Robin criticized your food afore?" She casually forked another bite.

The vision of Kluck, lardaceously lovely and elegantly eating, distracted Marian. Marian pulled her eyes away to straighten her thoughts. "No, just the opposite. Robin has been grateful. He might not be the hardest working husband, but he has been nothing but appreciative of my efforts." Having accomplished her mental task, she looked back to Kluck.

Kluck swallowed yet more pie, and she nodded knowingly. "Och, there you go. Now I see the problem." She nabbed another forkful, leaving just enough time between bites for her to talk.

Marian gulped. She wasn't aware of any problem. "Whatever do you mean?"

The fork stabbed through the last piece of the pie slice. It claimed a hefty portion of goopy filling along with a delightful segment of sweet crust. Kluck's beak snatched that bite from the fork, and she gulped it down. "Oogh." She took a moment to pat her stomach. Apparently, the volume of her snack drew her attention to her tubby midsection. She licked her beak clean of crumbs, and she looked down at her big belly, where those crumbs would soon arrive. Heedless of her middle's magnificence, she returned her gaze to Marian. "What is your meaning, when you say that Robin is not 'the hardest working husband'?"

A giggle erupted from Marian, deflecting the question before she'd even thought. Marian had only made that comment as a passing remark, not as a request for help. "Oh, that. I just mean his recreation occupies an unfit portion of his time. That's no bother, though. We'll see to fixing that, and everything will be right as rain." Eager to bring Kluck's focus back to pie, Marian took the knife and sliced a quarter out of the third pie. She pulled the slice out, which unveiled a bright, red filling. She placed it on the table beside Kluck. "This one is rhubarb."

"I'm gizzent like a bucket in the sea. Just one bite this time, eh?" Kluck glared at Marian through the tops of her eyes, squashing her neck fat under her chin. Even in her attempt to be stern, she could not help but appear fluffy. She turned to the pie and forked off a piece. Her beak opened and took it slowly, like an offering both given and accepted gracefully. While she chewed, her eyes drifted shut serenely. "Mmmph. Though it tastes incredible." Her chewing rustled her cheeks in a calm, restful rhythm.

Marian appreciated that Kluck liked the pie, but that wasn't truly what she was after. She honeyed her tone to beg for more. "Oh, please finish the slice. It would mean the world to me."

Kluck chuckled, sloshing her thickening gut. "Aye, thought as much. Well, minnie didn't raise a quitter." She forked off a large heap of pie and snared it with a lusty bite. Her playful determination wagged her cheeks. "You want to mend your man, do you?"

"Why, yes. I know Robin can be the very best, with a little help." Marian had no investment in the topic, but if it kept Kluck eating, she'd play along.

Kluck's breathing slowed. She massaged her middle. Her wing rubbed upward, and her chubby arm rustled her breasts aside. As she rubbed back down, her wing stretched to reach around the wide, heavy arc of her stomach. The slowness in her arm, the length of time it took to reach around herself, the hefty flop in her colossal breasts--it all spoke to the growing fullness in Kluck and the very weight in her corpulent body. In spite of all that, her other arm forked another bite. "Does he take an interest in your mending him?"

Bashful, Marian averted her eyes. "Not precisely. He's not aware."

Kluck cocked a suspicious brow. "And these pies wouldn't be part of that scheme, would they?" Her face's expression tightened, and she swallowed with evident effort. She looked full, yet she went on.

Between the sight of Kluck's feeding and her accusation, Marian's heart thumped. "Not in the slightest! I just want the best for him, that's all."

"That's a good lass. Bless my knickers, only a daff gillygacus would try to purchase her husband's obedience with good food. Nae, a man is like a donkey. Either he'll come willingly, or he won't come at all." Her beak lolled open. She deposited the end of the pie slice in her mouth, more akin to setting an object on a shelf than trying to eat something. Her beak closed mechanically, and after a thick pause, she swallowed with a thumping gulp. "Hoo. 'Twasn't easy, but it was a joy, given the quality of your baking." Her half-lidded eyes and wide smile looked thoroughly content.

Marian clapped her hands. "Splendid! You have helped me such a great deal. The last pie is cherry." She cut a quarter from the fourth and final pie, then presented it to Kluck on the table.

Kluck chortled, breathy. The effort in her breath betrayed her inner bloat. "Lass. There's no more room in me."

Marian grabbed the pie slice in her hands. "What if I feed you? You just sit however you feel most comfortable."

Kluck stared at her with a blank expression. "This truly is uncolie important to you, isn't it?" Her eyes blinked unevenly, seemingly drunk on pie.

In total earnestness, Marian nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid it is." Despite lying about her intentions, Marian did need it very much. The more Kluck ate, the more Marian's heart burned with desire to see her consume. Every wet smack of her beak, every stroke along her swelling middle, every labored breath, it all compelled Marian to go on.

"So it is. Just remember, if I pop, you're the one at fault." She hung her jaw loose. The bottom of her beak pushed her fluffy chin outward.

Marian's hand quivered as she held the tip of the slice to Kluck's beak. Watching had been one thing, but now that she fed Kluck personally, her body faltered nervously. Marian still couldn't place the feeling, even as it wracked her.

Unphased, Kluck bit down. Though she had protested verbally, she dutifully cleaved a hearty portion of the slice. Unlike Marian's trembling hand, Kluck's chews came in long, slow beats. Just watching her was enough to still Marian's shaky hand.

Marian inserted the slice further. While her heart pounded, she tried to see within herself. She needed to understand her motivation.

She wasn't aroused. She knew that feeling well. When Robin performed an impressive feat, or when he worked to earn her favor, that aroused her. Marian's thoughts lingered on his charm and his dashing looks, and they stirred a quickening between her legs. Her focus drifted to Robin's manhood. In her mind's eye, she saw his long shaft, thick and sturdy. Even as a figment of her imagination, it beckoned her desire.

As Marian slid more pie into Kluck's beak, she felt something different. Different, yes, but no less powerful. Marian didn't want to lay with Kluck the way she wanted to lay with Robin, but she still wanted something.

Kluck's throat pumped a strained gulp.

Marian looked to her hand and found it empty of pie.

Kluck smiled. "No less delightful than the last three. Robin will be beside himself, no matter which you serve to him." She wheezed, and her bulbous cheeks blew wide from her strenuous huffs. Her wings rested limp at her sides. She had put so much effort into plunging food into her stomach. The aftermath granted her a round stomach, rigid up against her breasts, heavy down against her lap, and protruding towards Marian. Its strained arc called to her.

Marian placed a hand on Kluck's stomach.

The hen's midsection was stiff as stone and large as a boulder. It burbled like a boiling stew. Kluck's beak scrunched, then flew open. "BHWOORP!"

Startled, Marian ripped her hand back. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry!"

Kluck guffawed. "Nae, nae, lassie. I needed that. If it's not too much trouble, I could use more of that after such a large meal." How incredible, that after eating so much for Marian, she would invite her to touch her stunning belly. Maybe she understood its splendor.

"Yes! Yes, of course." Gently, Marian placed her hands on Kluck's gurgling stomach. Her lithe hands were so tiny compared to Kluck's enormous gut. She rubbed downward, stroking around the swollen curve of her belly. It sure looked big, but the sensation of touch impressed that fact so much stronger. Then, Marian swept wide, putting her hands on either side of Kluck's vast waist. Marian had to open her arms wide, so much wider than her shoulders, and she adored the soft girth that made Kluck so much thicker.

She rubbed up Kluck's sides to the peak of her belly, just below her breasts. Marian's own breasts fit neatly within her palms. She couldn't imagine having a bosom like Kluck's, with fat that sprawled far from her chest, sat atop her enormous stomach, and gathered plump rolls under her arms. Her hand wanted to test one, just to see if they felt as immaculate as they looked.

Instead, she massaged downward. As her hands traversed the jutting arc of Kluck's stomach, she admired just how far the belly spread. Kluck was not only soft, but she was soft in such beautiful abundance, made only more heavenly for the prodigious curves it drew. "Klucky, there's something I've always wanted to ask you, but I don't want to speak out of turn."

Kluck's voice came out, slow and soft, lulled into relaxation. "Come, now, we've known each other for ages. Out with it."

"There's a difference between you and me. Well, that is, there are a great many differences between us, but the one I have in mind is physical." Marian stared at Kluck's huge stomach, unable to face the hen directly.

"I have feathers, for one thing. And a fair few years on you. But I think your current focus is on my thick down." She slapped her stomach, sloshing its fat right in Marian's face. Its slow undulations, carried wide over her bulk, were so luscious.

Heat flooded Marian. "Yes, that's right. I've always been so much smaller. I wonder if you enjoy your size." Her slow, caressing hands admired Kluck's enormity.

"People take one glance at me and assume I'm a glutton. They act like I eat this much pie every day." She chuckled. "Aside from that, it's not easy to get around with all this baggage weighing me down. It's not so easy to tailor for a bust this size, nevermind its weight on my back. And I catch more than my fair share of unseemly suitors."

Guilt sank into Marian's gut. She hadn't imagined being fat would be so bad. "Oh, I see."

"Don't mistake my meaning. Those are just the bothersome qualities. My girth also gives me a certain portion of authority, and people listen to me. But, all else aside, I like it. This may sound uncolike, but it's soft. It's a simple happiness, but a happiness nonetheless. Its presence contributes to my mood. If it wasn't there, well, I would miss it."

A grin swept through Marian's face. She steadied her excitement so as to keep her massage gentle.

Kluck went on. "You'll understand when you bear a kit. Softness comes with motherhood. Until such time, you will remain a twig, I promise you that."

Enamored with Kluck's rotund stomach, Marian rubbed on. She pressed her hands into the doughy, malleable portion at its bottom. At Kluck's waist, she ran her fingers through deep trenches of fat. And at the top of her belly, Marian studied the hardened contour of her stuffed gut. Its size and softness imparted glee to Marian's hands. "I cannot thank you enough."

Kluck shook her head. "Nae, I should thank you for the delicious pies. But I cannae play badminton today. I need a snoozle after that meal."

Marian stood. "Yes, of course." She offered her hand to Kluck.

Kluck took her hand. She clenched her beak, and as her legs raised her, her stomach sloshed free of her lap. Her body language made her stuffed gut look so heavy and bulky. "Thank you kindly." She turned and waddled away. Her steps fell with more lethargy than they had earlier, and Kluck's corpulence swayed with more gravity. Her stride carried a sleepy weight, like a soft mattress ready for slumber.

After watching the hen's tail feathers, Marian stepped into the hallway. She walked lightly, afraid that someone might catch her. She had no reason to fear anyone in the castle, yet she was anxious for what she was about to do. She turned to the stairwell, and she scampered delicately up to the second floor. She tucked into the bedroom she shared with Robin, closed the door, and planted her back against it.

She was alone. The fresh, spring breeze was her only company, along with the tweets of birds that carried in through the window. The bed, as she had made it this morning, was still in prim shape.

But Marian wasn't interested in the bed. Instead, she turned to her wardrobe. She opened it. In the bottom corner, she had tucked away a wineskin. There it lay, out of sight, but not out of mind. Her hand took hold of it, and her mind's eye conjured the image of that pig, staring back up at her from the crow's cauldron. She needed to be that pig. She thought of those big cheeks, that dull snout, those floppy ears, and her mind made room for nothing else. Passion robbed her of free will.

Her lithe fingers uncorked the skin with a wet pop. She upturned it over her mouth, and she guzzled. The potion tasted savory and decadent, like delicious gravy. In but a few moments, Marian downed the entire skin.

She corked it once more and set it down in its hiding spot, now deflated.

Marian felt nothing. She didn't fall ill, and she didn't change. She may as well have imbibed a wineskin full of genuine gravy. Perhaps it was all a cruel trick. All the better.

The wineskin soon faded from Marian's awareness. She had no need for a questionable potion from a strange woman. Other matters deserved her attention.

For instance, Marian had asked for Lady Kluck's assistance. She had devised a new pie recipe, and she wished to obtain Kluck's opinion before feeding it to Robin.

In the early afternoon, Marian and Lady Kluck strolled through the main hall of Castle Nottingham. A forest green carpet padded the path through a hallway of gray and tan stonework. This was the central artery of the castle, as attested by the number of doors on either side. The hallway was bookended by two significant rooms: the great hall on one end and the dining hall on the other.

Walking, Marian's headdress drifted about her pointed fox ears, while her skirt swished from her lithe hips. Each step carried her light weight softly down the carpet.

Lady Kluck waddled alongside her, bobbing side to side between heavy footfalls. Some described her gait as ungainly, but in truth, her plumpness added a certain dancelike quality to her stride. The hen's rotund legs swept wide around one another. They took turns rolling past each other, casting her thick thighs in broad, rhythmic arcs. They swished her flowing, sky blue dress, which itself merely complemented her already voluptuous movement. And the dance did not end there. Owing to her stomach's immensity, each step nudged her thighs up into her bounteous, bulbous belly. The plush, globular mass shifted opposite her rising leg. What a beautiful trick of gravity, that her leg should rise on her right and her belly should lean to her left, like a call and response in the very curves of her body. Kluck's pudgy shoulders waved her delicate, feathery arms. Her large, pendulous breasts followed the motion in her shoulders, swaying opposite her belly. Her bosom's softness was already readily apparent in its breadth. It spread across the top of her stomach and even under her arms. As she moved, her breasts swayed over her belly with a delay from her shoulders and a jiggle from her step that only emphasized their captivating suppleness.

Her face beamed with every bit as much welcoming padding as her body. Thick layers of fat cushioned her neck and chin, and bubbly cheeks girded her stiff beak. The fat of her face bounced with each plodding step.

Klucky was so wise, kind, resourceful, and moral. She had been more than a lady-in-waiting to Marian. She served as a role model in so many ways. It only followed that her figure was worthy of admiration, as well. Every plush, full curve of her thickly padded flesh was another ounce of fat that contributed to her beauty.

Seemingly ignorant of Marian's longing gaze, Kluck spoke. "I'm no stranger to the cummer of wifely cooking. My George--God rest his soul--would have eaten dryte had I but served it to him, and happily so. But I loved him, and I wanted the best for him, down to the last crumb." Her eyes glimmered. They pointed down the hallway, but they clearly gazed upon something only she could see, a fond memory.

Impressed by the poignance of Kluck's reverie, Marian nodded sheepishly. "Yes, I'm glad you understand. Thank you ever so much for lending your tongue." She had asked Lady Kluck to sample a pie recipe for her, ahead of serving it to Robin. And Marian had convinced herself that was her true motivation.

They approached the kitchen door on the left. It was a simple, oaken door with a rounded arch. Marian's palm pushed aside the heavy door. The kitchen ahead of her featured a broad, stone hearth, currently unlit. On the opposite wall, a wooden table offered room for preparing food. Chairs scattered about. In the back, a staircase led downward, into the cellar.

She stepped into the kitchen. Her body passed through the doorway with ample room. She held the door open.

Kluck ambled through after her. Her voluminous breadth alone occupied more than half of the doorway, but the wide sweep in her step carried through an even wider swath of the portal.

A sudden glee overtook Marian, and she skipped across the kitchen to the cellar staircase. She looked over her shoulder, back to Kluck. "Please, take a seat. I'll bring the pie right up." With that, she flew down the stairs on light, pattering footpads.

She descended into the cool, dark cellar. A torch in a wall sconce threw orange, flickering light onto wooden shelves. A nearby shelf held the four pies she had prepared for this moment. Alone, with only the torch's flame to see by, the darkness compelled her to eat a pie. She picked up the first one and gazed upon its flaky, salty crust. Marian recalled all of the savory meat she had baked within. She yearned to dig her face into it, shred it to pieces between her teeth, and swallow it all.

She resisted that call. Baking a pie just to consume it herself would have been selfish. Instead, she grabbed the second pie and stacked it atop the first, then the third, and then the fourth. She cradled all four pies in her arms, careful not to crack any. Cautiously, she ascended the stairs. The slow pace of her climb gave the pies' delectable, buttery fragrance more time to entice her nose. When Marian emerged in the kitchen, she blew a sigh of relief.

By then, Kluck had seated herself on a chair by the table. Her expansive figure hid the chair, with a waist wider than the chair's back, thighs that draped over the chair's seat, and calves that shielded the chair's legs from sight. Evidently, she had prepared to eat, since a knife and fork laid on the table next to her. She wasn't prepared enough, though, as her brows raised when she saw Marian. "Help ma boab! I thought there was but one pie."

Marian blushed. She had intentionally deceived Kluck, but still, the hen's loud, bold mannerisms always had an effect on her. Gingerly, she set all four pies down on the table. "Oh, silly me. I forgot I had made so many different kinds. But it truly is vitally important that I know your opinion on all four. And I want your honest, unfiltered opinion. I beg you not to pull your punches." She took the knife and cut a quarter out of the first pie, a meat pie. The knife passed easily through brittle crust and soft, mealy innards. She plucked the slice away from the rest, revealing its brown filling. Then, she took a chair next to Kluck.

Kluck shook her head. "I'm sure I won't have any punches to pull." She stabbed the fork through the tip of the pie slice. The morsel passed between her lips and disappeared into her beak. Instantly, her face fell sullen, and her eyes widened.

Marian's breath hitched. "It's that bad, is it?"

Frantically, Kluck waved her hand. "Nae! This gusts the gab, and then some. I've never tasted anything so good. Do you mind if I nam the rest of the slice?" Her cheeks pursed with a vibrant smile.

"No, of course not. Please, it would be my pleasure." Marian didn't realize just how true that claim was.

Kluck leaned forward and perched towards the table. The shift in her posture pushed her backside out, flaunting the vast curves of her doughy buns. Their plush heft weighed beyond the seat on all sides. As she leaned forward, her legs parted. Her thighs poured luscious fat from the edges of her seat, only for her dress to catch her flowing flesh in taut threads.

Her forward lean pressed her stomach between her legs and into the gap between her seat and the table. Kluck's stomach was every bit as jiggly as a bowl of jelly. Pushed forward so, she emphasized the large curves in her pronounced midsection. On account of its size, hanging from such a warm person, it was much sweeter than any bowl of jelly. The fluffy sack of cushy lard tugged her dress downward, as well, joining her legs on that front.

Two elbows met the tabletop to secure her posture. Her biceps billowed with flab, draped along her breasts in a large hug. Her wealthy breasts, overflowing with warm weight and kind curves, rested against the tabletop. Her thick arms pushed them together and plumped them upward. At the same time, her lower body tugged her dress downward, which pulled her neckline down along her bust. There, white feathers lined broad arcs of girthy fat, so large that their curves could only be but gentle. Graciously, her fat worked in concert to draw out her breasts, as if aware on some unconscious level of the comfort in their appearance. To behold Kluck's bosom was to feel a hug, without so much as a touch.

Above her breasts, Kluck's thick neck and cheeks softened her visage. Of course, her own eyes did not dote on her chest. They pointed over the rolling hills of her immense bosom and to the pie just past them.

She drove her fork through the pie. Swift and graceful, she pulled off a forkful, carried it over her chest, and swept it into her mouth. Her beak gyrated delicately, bobbing her bulbous cheeks. She took another bite.

In silence, Marian watched Kluck eat. She admired the way Lady Kluck's plump form elegantly lifted a bite from the pie, deposited it past her dainty lips, and swallowed it down. Kluck was already a big, beautiful woman, but Marian eagerly anticipated the way her food would contribute to Kluck's abundance of adipose.

Marian's chest tightened. A longing took hold of her for something more than just Kluck's growth. She could not grasp that desire, though. The nature of her longing slipped through her mind's fingers. She only knew that something felt right about Kluck eating.

The pie gradually disappeared into Lady Kluck's mouth in a series of dignified forkfuls and ladylike swallows. The simple grace of her chews was a delight in itself, pleasing Marian as she repeated the motion over and over. After swallowing the last bite, she sat back with a satisfied sigh. The chair creaked under her shifting bulk. Her love handles pooled against her hips, and her stomach retreated into her lap, where it settled wide over her tubby thighs. Her breasts departed the table and settled atop her belly in thick, expansive pillows. Every move of her body, no matter how minute, was a concert of shifting weight and grinding fat. "That was scrumptious. I'm sure Robin will adore it." Her wing rubbed her thick, bulging belly. The broad arc of her stroke illustrated just how generously fat she was.

As much as Marian enjoyed the sight before her, she hungered for more. Kluck's performance enriched Marian. It fed Marian in a way that she didn't comprehend, and she yearned for more. Marian reached towards another pie. "I can't thank you enough. Now, the next pie is a blueberry." Again, she grabbed the knife and sliced a quarter from the pie. With a delicate grasp, she pulled the slice away from the pie and set it by Kluck. This time, the pie contained a glistening, indigo filling.

Kluck licked the remaining grease and meat from her fork. Her tongue, delicate in texture but strong in force, pressed to the fork with a damp but barely audible noise. Alone with Lady Kluck, every subdued tone of her mastication rang clearly. Then, she cleaved the fork through the pie, squelching it. She lifted the small bite to her mouth and shut her beak with a subtle smack of her lips. She swallowed it in a dull thump.

A rich smile lit up her face, and she shook her head joyfully. "Mmph! You've done it again, lass. This pie will keep him right jauntie."

Marian hoped that Kluck would continue without intervention. Marian looked at the fork, as if her eyes could compel it to go back to the pie. She glanced at Kluck's beak with the foolish expectation that it would open up and take another bite.

Craning her head forward, Kluck addressed her. "Aye, was there anything else I could assist you with...?"

Only an intervention would do. Marian devised one on the spot. "Why, yes! I'm delighted that you enjoyed the first bite. But could you take another? I want to make sure the recipe is good all the way from the tip to the crust. If you could finish the slice, I would be grateful beyond measure." Marian clasped her hands together with wide, pleading eyes. The begging in her expression was genuine, even if her words were not.

Kluck drew a long sigh, slowly hefting her enormous breasts upward before settling them down with little trembles. She smirked, familiar and warm. "Alright, lass. But only because I love you so." Rather than leaning forward again, she turned her chair along the table, and she leaned sideways against the table. Now seated parallel to the table, her posture pointed her great, big stomach directly at Marian. Its drastic curve seemed to leap out at Marian, even while sitting inert in Kluck's lap.

Kluck's hand plucked the fork. She severed a mouthful of pie and placed it in her beak. As she chewed, her brow furrowed thoughtfully, only to speak after swallowing. "I wish I knew what made you so skeerie. Has Robin criticized your food afore?" She casually forked another bite.

The vision of Kluck, lardaceously lovely and elegantly eating, distracted Marian. Marian pulled her eyes away to straighten her thoughts. "No, just the opposite. Robin has been grateful. He might not be the hardest working husband, but he has been nothing but appreciative of my efforts." Having accomplished her mental task, she looked back to Kluck.

Kluck swallowed yet more pie, and she nodded knowingly. "Och, there you go. Now I see the problem." She nabbed another forkful, leaving just enough time between bites for her to talk.

Marian gulped. She wasn't aware of any problem. "Whatever do you mean?"

The fork stabbed through the last piece of the pie slice. It claimed a hefty portion of goopy filling along with a delightful segment of sweet crust. Kluck's beak snatched that bite from the fork, and she gulped it down. "Oogh." She took a moment to pat her stomach. Apparently, the volume of her snack drew her attention to her tubby midsection. She licked her beak clean of crumbs, and she looked down at her big belly, where those crumbs would soon arrive. Heedless of her middle's magnificence, she returned her gaze to Marian. "What is your meaning, when you say that Robin is not 'the hardest working husband'?"

A giggle erupted from Marian, deflecting the question before she'd even thought. Marian had only made that comment as a passing remark, not as a request for help. "Oh, that. I just mean his recreation occupies an unfit portion of his time. That's no bother, though. We'll see to fixing that, and everything will be right as rain." Eager to bring Kluck's focus back to pie, Marian took the knife and sliced a quarter out of the third pie. She pulled the slice out, which unveiled a bright, red filling. She placed it on the table beside Kluck. "This one is rhubarb."

"I'm gizzent like a bucket in the sea. Just one bite this time, eh?" Kluck glared at Marian through the tops of her eyes, squashing her neck fat under her chin. Even in her attempt to be stern, she could not help but appear fluffy. She turned to the pie and forked off a piece. Her beak opened and took it slowly, like an offering both given and accepted gracefully. While she chewed, her eyes drifted shut serenely. "Mmmph. Though it tastes incredible." Her chewing rustled her cheeks in a calm, restful rhythm.

Marian appreciated that Kluck liked the pie, but that wasn't truly what she was after. She honeyed her tone to beg for more. "Oh, please finish the slice. It would mean the world to me."

Kluck chuckled, sloshing her thickening gut. "Aye, thought as much. Well, minnie didn't raise a quitter." She forked off a large heap of pie and snared it with a lusty bite. Her playful determination wagged her cheeks. "You want to mend your man, do you?"

"Why, yes. I know Robin can be the very best, with a little help." Marian had no investment in the topic, but if it kept Kluck eating, she'd play along.

Kluck's breathing slowed. She massaged her middle. Her wing rubbed upward, and her chubby arm rustled her breasts aside. As she rubbed back down, her wing stretched to reach around the wide, heavy arc of her stomach. The slowness in her arm, the length of time it took to reach around herself, the hefty flop in her colossal breasts--it all spoke to the growing fullness in Kluck and the very weight in her corpulent body. In spite of all that, her other arm forked another bite. "Does he take an interest in your mending him?"

Bashful, Marian averted her eyes. "Not precisely. He's not aware."

Kluck cocked a suspicious brow. "And these pies wouldn't be part of that scheme, would they?" Her face's expression tightened, and she swallowed with evident effort. She looked full, yet she went on.

Between the sight of Kluck's feeding and her accusation, Marian's heart thumped. "Not in the slightest! I just want the best for him, that's all."

"That's a good lass. Bless my knickers, only a daff gillygacus would try to purchase her husband's obedience with good food. Nae, a man is like a donkey. Either he'll come willingly, or he won't come at all." Her beak lolled open. She deposited the end of the pie slice in her mouth, more akin to setting an object on a shelf than trying to eat something. Her beak closed mechanically, and after a thick pause, she swallowed with a thumping gulp. "Hoo. 'Twasn't easy, but it was a joy, given the quality of your baking." Her half-lidded eyes and wide smile looked thoroughly content.

Marian clapped her hands. "Splendid! You have helped me such a great deal. The last pie is cherry." She cut a quarter from the fourth and final pie, then presented it to Kluck on the table.

Kluck chortled, breathy. The effort in her breath betrayed her inner bloat. "Lass. There's no more room in me."

Marian grabbed the pie slice in her hands. "What if I feed you? You just sit however you feel most comfortable."

Kluck stared at her with a blank expression. "This truly is uncolie important to you, isn't it?" Her eyes blinked unevenly, seemingly drunk on pie.

In total earnestness, Marian nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid it is." Despite lying about her intentions, Marian did need it very much. The more Kluck ate, the more Marian's heart burned with desire to see her consume. Every wet smack of her beak, every stroke along her swelling middle, every labored breath, it all compelled Marian to go on.

"So it is. Just remember, if I pop, you're the one at fault." She hung her jaw loose. The bottom of her beak pushed her fluffy chin outward.

Marian's hand quivered as she held the tip of the slice to Kluck's beak. Watching had been one thing, but now that she fed Kluck personally, her body faltered nervously. Marian still couldn't place the feeling, even as it wracked her.

Unphased, Kluck bit down. Though she had protested verbally, she dutifully cleaved a hearty portion of the slice. Unlike Marian's trembling hand, Kluck's chews came in long, slow beats. Just watching her was enough to still Marian's shaky hand.

Marian inserted the slice further. While her heart pounded, she tried to see within herself. She needed to understand her motivation.

She wasn't aroused. She knew that feeling well. When Robin performed an impressive feat, or when he worked to earn her favor, that aroused her. Marian's thoughts lingered on his charm and his dashing looks, and they stirred a quickening between her legs. Her focus drifted to Robin's manhood. In her mind's eye, she saw his long shaft, thick and sturdy. Even as a figment of her imagination, it beckoned her desire.

As Marian slid more pie into Kluck's beak, she felt something different. Different, yes, but no less powerful. Marian didn't want to lay with Kluck the way she wanted to lay with Robin, but she still wanted something.

Kluck's throat pumped a strained gulp.

Marian looked to her hand and found it empty of pie.

Kluck smiled. "No less delightful than the last three. Robin will be beside himself, no matter which you serve to him." She wheezed, and her bulbous cheeks blew wide from her strenuous huffs. Her wings rested limp at her sides. She had put so much effort into plunging food into her stomach. The aftermath granted her a round stomach, rigid up against her breasts, heavy down against her lap, and protruding towards Marian. Its strained arc called to her.

Marian placed a hand on Kluck's stomach.

The hen's midsection was stiff as stone and large as a boulder. It burbled like a boiling stew. Kluck's beak scrunched, then flew open. "BHWOORP!"

Startled, Marian ripped her hand back. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry!"

Kluck guffawed. "Nae, nae, lassie. I needed that. If it's not too much trouble, I could use more of that after such a large meal." How incredible, that after eating so much for Marian, she would invite her to touch her stunning belly. Maybe she understood its splendor.

"Yes! Yes, of course." Gently, Marian placed her hands on Kluck's gurgling stomach. Her lithe hands were so tiny compared to Kluck's enormous gut. She rubbed downward, stroking around the swollen curve of her belly. It sure looked big, but the sensation of touch impressed that fact so much stronger. Then, Marian swept wide, putting her hands on either side of Kluck's vast waist. Marian had to open her arms wide, so much wider than her shoulders, and she adored the soft girth that made Kluck so much thicker.

She rubbed up Kluck's sides to the peak of her belly, just below her breasts. Marian's own breasts fit neatly within her palms. She couldn't imagine having a bosom like Kluck's, with fat that sprawled far from her chest, sat atop her enormous stomach, and gathered plump rolls under her arms. Her hand wanted to test one, just to see if they felt as immaculate as they looked.

Instead, she massaged downward. As her hands traversed the jutting arc of Kluck's stomach, she admired just how far the belly spread. Kluck was not only soft, but she was soft in such beautiful abundance, made only more heavenly for the prodigious curves it drew. "Klucky, there's something I've always wanted to ask you, but I don't want to speak out of turn."

Kluck's voice came out, slow and soft, lulled into relaxation. "Come, now, we've known each other for ages. Out with it."

"There's a difference between you and me. Well, that is, there are a great many differences between us, but the one I have in mind is physical." Marian stared at Kluck's huge stomach, unable to face the hen directly.

"I have feathers, for one thing. And a fair few years on you. But I think your current focus is on my thick down." She slapped her stomach, sloshing its fat right in Marian's face. Its slow undulations, carried wide over her bulk, were so luscious.

Heat flooded Marian. "Yes, that's right. I've always been so much smaller. I wonder if you enjoy your size." Her slow, caressing hands admired Kluck's enormity.

"People take one glance at me and assume I'm a glutton. They act like I eat this much pie every day." She chuckled. "Aside from that, it's not easy to get around with all this baggage weighing me down. It's not so easy to tailor for a bust this size, nevermind its weight on my back. And I catch more than my fair share of unseemly suitors."

Guilt sank into Marian's gut. She hadn't imagined being fat would be so bad. "Oh, I see."

"Don't mistake my meaning. Those are just the bothersome qualities. My girth also gives me a certain portion of authority, and people listen to me. But, all else aside, I like it. This may sound uncolike, but it's soft. It's a simple happiness, but a happiness nonetheless. Its presence contributes to my mood. If it wasn't there, well, I would miss it."

A grin swept through Marian's face. She steadied her excitement so as to keep her massage gentle.

Kluck went on. "You'll understand when you bear a kit. Softness comes with motherhood. Until such time, you will remain a twig, I promise you that."

Enamored with Kluck's rotund stomach, Marian rubbed on. She pressed her hands into the doughy, malleable portion at its bottom. At Kluck's waist, she ran her fingers through deep trenches of fat. And at the top of her belly, Marian studied the hardened contour of her stuffed gut. Its size and softness imparted glee to Marian's hands. "I cannot thank you enough."

Kluck shook her head. "Nae, I should thank you for the delicious pies. But I cannae play badminton today. I need a snoozle after that meal."

Marian stood. "Yes, of course." She offered her hand to Kluck.

Kluck took her hand. She clenched her beak, and as her legs raised her, her stomach sloshed free of her lap. Her body language made her stuffed gut look so heavy and bulky. "Thank you kindly." She turned and waddled away. Her steps fell with more lethargy than they had earlier, and Kluck's corpulence swayed with more gravity. Her stride carried a sleepy weight, like a soft mattress ready for slumber.

After watching the hen's tail feathers, Marian stepped into the hallway. She walked lightly, afraid that someone might catch her. She had no reason to fear anyone in the castle, yet she was anxious for what she was about to do. She turned to the stairwell, and she scampered delicately up to the second floor. She tucked into the bedroom she shared with Robin, closed the door, and planted her back against it.

She was alone. The fresh, spring breeze was her only company, along with the tweets of birds that carried in through the window. The bed, as she had made it this morning, was still in prim shape.

But Marian wasn't interested in the bed. Instead, she turned to her wardrobe. She opened it. In the bottom corner, she had tucked away a wineskin. There it lay, out of sight, but not out of mind. Her hand took hold of it, and her mind's eye conjured the image of that pig, staring back up at her from the crow's cauldron. She needed to be that pig. She thought of those big cheeks, that dull snout, those floppy ears, and her mind made room for nothing else. Passion robbed her of free will.

Her lithe fingers uncorked the skin with a wet pop. She upturned it over her mouth, and she guzzled. The potion tasted savory and decadent, like delicious gravy. In but a few moments, Marian downed the entire skin.

She corked it once more and set it down in its hiding spot, now deflated.

Marian felt nothing. She didn't fall ill, and she didn't change. She may as well have imbibed a wineskin full of genuine gravy. Perhaps it was all a cruel trick. All the better.

Every weekday morning, Countess Marian conducted school lessons in the castle courtyard. She was a woman of learning and knowledge, and one of her heart's deepest desires was to pass on the passion for learning to those who would come after her. Marian had so much to give. She regretted having but one self to do the giving.

After breakfast, she departed to the courtyard. The morning dew had dried from soft grass, and a gentle breeze blew by under a rising sun. There, she met Lady Kluck. The two would discuss the day's lesson before the children arrived.

Marian recalled the lesson plan from the prior day. "Today, we ought to continue with subtraction."

Lady Kluck opened her mouth, but another voice shouted.

"Countess!" The voice, tangy and high, belonged to Tim. He was the castle steward, a faithful mouse who saw to the workings of Castle Nottingham.

Marian turned from the open field back towards the castle, where she spotted him.

Tim the mouse dashed on short legs. His scamper shuffled his loose, baggy pants and his puffy, ornate shirt, while his big ears flew back as they clung to his scalp. Everything about him looked too big for him. "Countess Marian. I apologize, but we have need of you."

Resentment steamed within Marian's chest. Without any explanation, she already knew the reason for Tim's request. Still, she asked. "The Earl is not present to hold court?"

Tim hung his head with a shamed frown. "Aye, Countess."

Marian turned to Kluck. "I'm sorry, but--"

Kluck held up a hand. "You aren't the one who needs to be apologizing. Get along now, I'll be alright with the wee bairns."

Offering a sheepish smile, Marian clasped her hands over Kluck's. "Thank you."

Tim led the way back into the castle. As he opened the wooden door, his ears drooped, and his tail tucked between his legs. He stepped aside.

Before she stepped inside, Marian drew one last breath of fresh air. She hoped to cool her resentment by stifling it under the scent of fresh grass. Then, she faced Tim. "Don't look so glum." She commanded him, since it was not proper that he should adopt such a meek posture, but the command applied just as much to her. She did not need to visit her ire on the honest folk of Nottingham.

He stood upright, ears perky and tail straight. "Yes, Countess. Begging your pardon." His humility inspired her.

She smiled for him. "Thank you, Timothy. We all have our part to play, and you play yours excellently. Which is more than I can say for certain members of our court..." She stepped past him and into the stone interior of the castle, where she entered the main hallway. Marian faced towards the front of the castle, away from the dining hall. Green carpet led her into the great hall.

The great hall was the foremost room in the castle, both literally and figuratively. It was the facade, the first room a visitor would see in the castle, and oftentimes, the only room. Emerging from the doorway, Marian stood behind a great, wide table. The hall's high ceiling kept it cool. Tall, drafty windows and long, elegant banners employed that height for a stately, magnificent appearance. The room was large enough to entertain 50 guests. Currently, it bored a smattering of townsfolk who had come to lodge petitions. They sat in chairs lined at the opposite end of the room. There, six commoners waited more or less patiently for their countess. Behind them, large double doors rose with a beautiful, rounded arch. A guard was posted at either side.

Marian would make them wait no longer. At the center of the table was a tall, walnut chair. Its size communicated authority, while its plain design expressed understanding and likeness. Marian took that chair for herself, sitting at the table.

Tim walked around to the side of the table, out of the way. He waved his arm towards two men among the seated people. The ruddy pair was a groundhog and a mole. "Eustace and Amos, step forward please. You may bow for your countess."

The two men rose and marched forward. Their faces drooped with frustrated grimaces. Their clothing was dirty and well-worn, with baggy shirts and patched pants. Once they reached the table, they both bowed before Marian. On their way up from that bow, they both started. Their voices intertwined, impossible to parse from one another.

"He got into my--"

"You see he just barged--"

"--that's my plot--"

"--the fence was clearly--"

Marian reached to her gavel, and she knocked the tabletop with a thunderous clap. "Silence! There is an order to these things. Introduce yourselves." She looked to the mole. "You first."

The mole nodded earnestly. "Yes, M'lady. I'm Eustace. This man--"

She banged her gavel again. "That's enough." She looked to the groundhog. "And you?"

The groundhog smirked. "I go by Amos. My neighbor--"

Once more, Marian struck the gavel. Each man was determined to hoard the court's time, but Marian was determined to keep them both in check. "While you are in this court, you will not speak unless spoken to. Now. Eustace. Explain your grievance."

Eustace, the mole, cleared his throat. "Yes, M'lady. The western border of my property goes all the way up to the top of this hill. Well, I was grazing cattle there, when suddenly I found my fence had moved in about five feet. So--"

Amos, the groundhog, broke in. "Hogwash!"

The gavel cut him off with a sharp bang, and both men jumped.

Marian glared at Amos. "If you do not wish to forfeit the matter, I suggest you remain silent." She moved her eyes back to Eustace. "Please, continue."

Eustace drew a deep breath. "So, I moved the fence back to where it should have been. Now, Amos says--"

Marian interrupted with the gavel. "I will let Amos present his own testimony. Amos?"

Amos jerked his thumb to his chest. "I was the one moving the fence to where it ought to be. Eustace here, he's claimed a chunk of my property."

After a sigh, Marian addressed her steward, Tim. "Speak with the bookkeeper. Find the deeds for these two gentlemen's properties, and we'll get this settled." She turned to Eustace and Amos. "In the meantime, do try to act civil towards each other. You are dismissed."

As if on cue, the two men each opened their mouths with clamorous, riotous shouts.

Marian hammered the gavel with an ear-shattering boom. "If you think this court will tolerate your misconduct for one moment longer, you will both see the dungeon. You will both leave in silence."

Amos straightened his back and tightened his lips, and so did Eustace. Stiffly, they turned around and marched away, towards the front door. The guards opened the front double doors for them. Silently, they passed through. They waited until the doors shut before continuing their shouting match.

Marian hung her head in her hand. After that exchange, her muscles weakened. Her lungs trembled, and her arms shook. She puzzled over it, having never been drained physically by a social interaction. She also chided herself inwardly for her frailty.

But there were petitions to hear, and no amount of introspection would answer them. She looked to Tim. "Please send for something. Something to eat, that is. I'll carry on in the meantime." Even in her reduced state, she was well equipped to hear petitions. Though that task was Robin's responsibility, she was the one present.

Tim nodded. "Of course, Countess. Right away." He scampered to the back door and grunted to push it open. Behind Marian, his feet pattered out of the room.

Marian's ears heard Tim close the door behind her, but her eyes saw commoners seated before her. Four remained.

One pair, a young woman and man, smiled while holding hands. Hopefully, their eager expressions meant they'd be easier to hear than the bickering farmers.

The other pair, a man and woman looking 20 years older, crossed their arms and looked away from each other. They would not be easy.

Marian nodded towards the younger couple. "Step forward and introduce yourselves." A roaring grumble cleaved her stomach painfully. Unable to dam its ache, she winced.

A tall rabbit woman and a stumpy rhinoceros man rose from the chairs. Though their clothes were ragged and their appearances unkempt, they skipped with glee.

The rhino man spoke first, looking to the rabbit. "You go first."

The rabbit blushed. "No, you."

The man scratched his neck. "I'm Barney."

Then, the woman. "Kelly."

Another pang scraped Marian's stomach. She pressed her hand firm to her middle, expecting to find a hole. Instead, her palm offered meager comfort to her flat, ferocious belly. Trying to force her pain aside, she spoke. "What is your petition?"

Barney, the rhino, explained. "My old man wants to marry me off to some far-away wench. But Kelly and I love each other. I could never be without her. We need you to marry us before it's too late." Young, impetuous love.

Marian looked to the rabbit. "And do you--" A ravenous growl cut Marian off and scraped the insides of her stomach. She felt so desperately empty. Her body clamored crudely for food. With one hand clutching her stomach, her other hand stabilized her against the tabletop. She fought through the torture with a grimace and resumed her sentence, "--feel the same way?"

Kelly the rabbit nodded rapidly, wagging her long ears. "Yes, very much so. You must marry us at once."

Hunger ravaged Marian. Her arm against the tabletop barely kept her sitting upright. She could not hide her improper weakness from her subjects, but she hoped to at least obscure it. "I see. And how long have you felt this way?" Her jaw surged with energy, eager to bite something in hopes of striking sustenance. Instead, her mandible fruitlessly grinded tooth on tooth.

Kelly looked to Barney. "Today's Tuesday, yes? Then..."

Barney grinned wide and faced Marian. "One entire week!"

After drawing a long breath to compose herself, Marian responded. "I am sympathetic to your plight. No one should be married against their wishes. However--" Another growl rocked her to her core. Her head swam, and she felt ready to topple over. At this point, she was willing to eat the table itself. "However, I cannot marry two people who have been madly in love for but a week."

Pushing aside her hunger, she recalled when she nourished a similarly passionate infatuation for Robin Hood. Then, they had sanctified their relationship in marriage. That came with responsibilities that hollowed out their love, as if draining it of sustenance. Her stomach rumbled.

The rhino interrupted. "But my father!"

Marian recoiled. She was so dizzy that even a strong statement challenged her balance. "Bring him in tomorrow."

The rabbit looked to the ground and mumbled. "So, you won't marry us?"

Sluggishly, Marian shook her head. "Not today. See me tomorrow with Barney's father. You are dismissed." She clenched her eyes shut. She couldn't decide their case until she had heard from the boy's father.

A wooden plate clattered in front of her. She opened her eyes to find a bread roll placed by Tim.

Hunger had wracked her so severely that she hadn't even heard him enter. Relieved, she shoved the roll into her mouth, and it slipped through her esophagus. Her stomach was so hungry that it vacuumed down the food without a single bite. "More. I need more." She normally showed the steward more courtesy, but her appetite was so dire that she could barely say that much.

Tim's expression widened, looking equal parts concerned and surprised. "Yes, Countess. Right away." He departed.

Marian's stomach boomed with a deep grumble, low in tone but loud in volume. The roar of hunger contorted her stomach to wring every last iota of nutrition from the meager roll. Seemingly, the bread roll had only inflamed her voracity. She caught her breath and waved forward the older couple. "Introduce yourselves. And please, be civil."

The woman, a svelte sparrow, marched forward with squared shoulders. Her long, blue dress flowed around her. "My name is Clarissa."

The man, a chubby badger, shuffled alongside her, rustling his wrinkled shirt and brown hose. His head sunk between his shoulders. "I'm Matthew."

Marian kneaded her stomach with both hands, but nothing could ease its clawing hunger. She uttered her words through pained grunts. "Clarissa. What is your petition?"

The sparrow, Clarissa, whipped her head aside, away from the badger. Her voice cut the room with a sharp cadence. "I'm here seeking divorce."

Offering a weak nod, Marian pressed further. "On what grounds?"

Clarissa looked askance at Matthew. "On the grounds that he's a cheating scumbag. I found him in the barn with our neighbor." This sounded messy, alright.

Marian looked to the badger. "And you, Matthew? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Matthew stared at his feet and talked in a slow, solemn tone. "It's true. I've committed adultery. But I'm sorry, miss--"

Marian cut him off. "Countess."

"--I'm sorry, Countess, and it will never happen again."

Clarissa cackled. "Pah! As if it hasn't already happened more than I can count. This time, I'm done forgiving you." Apparently, she had long put up with a lying, unfaithful husband. She painted a picture of a husband who had failed her time and again, a husband who had paid her lip service while refusing to grow and change.

Marian wondered if that was just the way with men. Perhaps a man could only ever be one thing, forever stuck in his ways.

Tim clattered another plate before her. On it sat a shepherd's pie with a beautiful, golden crust and a soothing, savory aroma. The prior day, one quarter of such a pie would have sated Marian's hunger.

Her stomach quaked violently. Its pangs snarled loudly and rocked her in her seat. Her muscles flooded with the desperate might of a frightened animal, and she snatched Tim by his tiny, little wrist. "Thank you. But, please, more. Much more."

He watched her with wide, quivering eyes. "Yes, Countess."

She let go.

Tim scuttled off.

Marian seized the pie in both hands. She thrust it into her face and crammed the crust's lip against the edges of her mouth. In an enormous, mouth-stretching bite, her ravenous teeth cleaved off a hefty portion. Meat, gravy, and vegetables gushed into her mouth as a salty, hearty stew. The bite was delicious, and it crammed her gullet full, but it landed in her gut like a meager crumb. Somewhere between her mouth and her stomach, the glut of food had reduced to nothing. She whined in disappointment.

Clarissa and Matthew watched her with furrowed, puzzled brows. Given Marian's urgent hunger, though, their opinion was of no consequence. She had to keep going.

She shredded another mouthful of shepherd's pie, hoping to feel something. She heard crunching crust, she tasted savory meat, she felt viscous gravy. Yet, for all those affirming sensations, the large glob of pie made no impact on her stomach. Bite after bite, she snared large bites with her sharp teeth, but they vanished upon leaving her esophagus. Her throat was full, but her stomach was empty. Marian's disappointment compounded on itself, forging in her muscles as steaming frustration. Each bite that failed her drove her to take her next bite more furiously.

Clarissa and Matthew fell from her awareness. Marian's only focus was the shepherd's pie.

Juicy beef and moist vegetables gushed between her teeth. Shards of brittle crust fell to the plate, momentarily dodging her appetite. Luscious gravy dotted her lips. She deftly lapped it up, sucking down every last speck. Nothing but a plate of crumbs remained. She lifted the plate to her lips, tilted, and inhaled them. Her anger mellowed as she came to realize that all her frenzy had been impotent, leaving her just as hungry as when the pie had arrived.

As Marian looked up from her meal, her stomach whined and roared for more. There was no more. Her only recourse was acceptance. She ignored her starved middle in order to render a verdict. "I will grant the divorce."

Matthew stomped his foot and shouted. "You have no right!"

Upturning her nose, Marian elevated her face as far as she could away from her grating gut. "Do not dare to raise your voice with me. Are you denying your adultery?" Her stomach howled and writhed, but she maintained her posture. She would not wither before anyone.

His face fell, and his eyes went blank. "No, I am not."

Marian shook her head. "Then my verdict is merely a reflection of the truth. In your faithless behavior, you have already dissolved your union." Marian's stomach squeezed and tore at itself while shrieking. She spoke over its din. "That leaves the matter of property. Matthew, have you a place to reside?"

Matthew turned a slow, sulking gaze to Clarissa. Then, he faced Marian. "Yes, my brother has a room for me."

"Good. Pack your belongings and make for his home. Clarissa, if you feel yourself in any mortal peril, the castle guard is ready to protect you."

Clarissa curtseyed. Her straight expression was solemn, as if relieved. "Thank you, Countess."

Marian sighed. "You are both dismissed." She was ready to be done with court and see to her hunger.

The former husband turned and shuffled away.

The former wife curtseyed again, then turned to watch Matthew leave. She waited for him to pass through the castle's front door before she left herself.

The warm, mild scent of freshly roasted fowl wafted by Marian's nose. Then, a platter slammed the table. Tim pushed it in front of Marian. It held the largest roasted turkey that Marian had ever seen.

She would eat every last scrap of meat on that bird. She could only hope that, then, her monstrous hunger would be sated.

Every weekday morning, Countess Marian conducted school lessons in the castle courtyard. She was a woman of learning and knowledge, and one of her heart's deepest desires was to pass on the passion for learning to those who would come after her. Marian had so much to give. She regretted having but one self to do the giving.

After breakfast, she departed to the courtyard. The morning dew had dried from soft grass, and a gentle breeze blew by under a rising sun. There, she met Lady Kluck. The two would discuss the day's lesson before the children arrived.

Marian recalled the lesson plan from the prior day. "Today, we ought to continue with subtraction."

Lady Kluck opened her mouth, but another voice shouted.

"Countess!" The voice, tangy and high, belonged to Tim. He was the castle steward, a faithful mouse who saw to the workings of Castle Nottingham.

Marian turned from the open field back towards the castle, where she spotted him.

Tim the mouse dashed on short legs. His scamper shuffled his loose, baggy pants and his puffy, ornate shirt, while his big ears flew back as they clung to his scalp. Everything about him looked too big for him. "Countess Marian. I apologize, but we have need of you."

Resentment steamed within Marian's chest. Without any explanation, she already knew the reason for Tim's request. Still, she asked. "The Earl is not present to hold court?"

Tim hung his head with a shamed frown. "Aye, Countess."

Marian turned to Kluck. "I'm sorry, but--"

Kluck held up a hand. "You aren't the one who needs to be apologizing. Get along now, I'll be alright with the wee bairns."

Offering a sheepish smile, Marian clasped her hands over Kluck's. "Thank you."

Tim led the way back into the castle. As he opened the wooden door, his ears drooped, and his tail tucked between his legs. He stepped aside.

Before she stepped inside, Marian drew one last breath of fresh air. She hoped to cool her resentment by stifling it under the scent of fresh grass. Then, she faced Tim. "Don't look so glum." She commanded him, since it was not proper that he should adopt such a meek posture, but the command applied just as much to her. She did not need to visit her ire on the honest folk of Nottingham.

He stood upright, ears perky and tail straight. "Yes, Countess. Begging your pardon." His humility inspired her.

She smiled for him. "Thank you, Timothy. We all have our part to play, and you play yours excellently. Which is more than I can say for certain members of our court..." She stepped past him and into the stone interior of the castle, where she entered the main hallway. Marian faced towards the front of the castle, away from the dining hall. Green carpet led her into the great hall.

The great hall was the foremost room in the castle, both literally and figuratively. It was the facade, the first room a visitor would see in the castle, and oftentimes, the only room. Emerging from the doorway, Marian stood behind a great, wide table. The hall's high ceiling kept it cool. Tall, drafty windows and long, elegant banners employed that height for a stately, magnificent appearance. The room was large enough to entertain 50 guests. Currently, it bored a smattering of townsfolk who had come to lodge petitions. They sat in chairs lined at the opposite end of the room. There, six commoners waited more or less patiently for their countess. Behind them, large double doors rose with a beautiful, rounded arch. A guard was posted at either side.

Marian would make them wait no longer. At the center of the table was a tall, walnut chair. Its size communicated authority, while its plain design expressed understanding and likeness. Marian took that chair for herself, sitting at the table.

Tim walked around to the side of the table, out of the way. He waved his arm towards two men among the seated people. The ruddy pair was a groundhog and a mole. "Eustace and Amos, step forward please. You may bow for your countess."

The two men rose and marched forward. Their faces drooped with frustrated grimaces. Their clothing was dirty and well-worn, with baggy shirts and patched pants. Once they reached the table, they both bowed before Marian. On their way up from that bow, they both started. Their voices intertwined, impossible to parse from one another.

"He got into my--"

"You see he just barged--"

"--that's my plot--"

"--the fence was clearly--"

Marian reached to her gavel, and she knocked the tabletop with a thunderous clap. "Silence! There is an order to these things. Introduce yourselves." She looked to the mole. "You first."

The mole nodded earnestly. "Yes, M'lady. I'm Eustace. This man--"

She banged her gavel again. "That's enough." She looked to the groundhog. "And you?"

The groundhog smirked. "I go by Amos. My neighbor--"

Once more, Marian struck the gavel. Each man was determined to hoard the court's time, but Marian was determined to keep them both in check. "While you are in this court, you will not speak unless spoken to. Now. Eustace. Explain your grievance."

Eustace, the mole, cleared his throat. "Yes, M'lady. The western border of my property goes all the way up to the top of this hill. Well, I was grazing cattle there, when suddenly I found my fence had moved in about five feet. So--"

Amos, the groundhog, broke in. "Hogwash!"

The gavel cut him off with a sharp bang, and both men jumped.

Marian glared at Amos. "If you do not wish to forfeit the matter, I suggest you remain silent." She moved her eyes back to Eustace. "Please, continue."

Eustace drew a deep breath. "So, I moved the fence back to where it should have been. Now, Amos says--"

Marian interrupted with the gavel. "I will let Amos present his own testimony. Amos?"

Amos jerked his thumb to his chest. "I was the one moving the fence to where it ought to be. Eustace here, he's claimed a chunk of my property."

After a sigh, Marian addressed her steward, Tim. "Speak with the bookkeeper. Find the deeds for these two gentlemen's properties, and we'll get this settled." She turned to Eustace and Amos. "In the meantime, do try to act civil towards each other. You are dismissed."

As if on cue, the two men each opened their mouths with clamorous, riotous shouts.

Marian hammered the gavel with an ear-shattering boom. "If you think this court will tolerate your misconduct for one moment longer, you will both see the dungeon. You will both leave in silence."

Amos straightened his back and tightened his lips, and so did Eustace. Stiffly, they turned around and marched away, towards the front door. The guards opened the front double doors for them. Silently, they passed through. They waited until the doors shut before continuing their shouting match.

Marian hung her head in her hand. After that exchange, her muscles weakened. Her lungs trembled, and her arms shook. She puzzled over it, having never been drained physically by a social interaction. She also chided herself inwardly for her frailty.

But there were petitions to hear, and no amount of introspection would answer them. She looked to Tim. "Please send for something. Something to eat, that is. I'll carry on in the meantime." Even in her reduced state, she was well equipped to hear petitions. Though that task was Robin's responsibility, she was the one present.

Tim nodded. "Of course, Countess. Right away." He scampered to the back door and grunted to push it open. Behind Marian, his feet pattered out of the room.

Marian's ears heard Tim close the door behind her, but her eyes saw commoners seated before her. Four remained.

One pair, a young woman and man, smiled while holding hands. Hopefully, their eager expressions meant they'd be easier to hear than the bickering farmers.

The other pair, a man and woman looking 20 years older, crossed their arms and looked away from each other. They would not be easy.

Marian nodded towards the younger couple. "Step forward and introduce yourselves." A roaring grumble cleaved her stomach painfully. Unable to dam its ache, she winced.

A tall rabbit woman and a stumpy rhinoceros man rose from the chairs. Though their clothes were ragged and their appearances unkempt, they skipped with glee.

The rhino man spoke first, looking to the rabbit. "You go first."

The rabbit blushed. "No, you."

The man scratched his neck. "I'm Barney."

Then, the woman. "Kelly."

Another pang scraped Marian's stomach. She pressed her hand firm to her middle, expecting to find a hole. Instead, her palm offered meager comfort to her flat, ferocious belly. Trying to force her pain aside, she spoke. "What is your petition?"

Barney, the rhino, explained. "My old man wants to marry me off to some far-away wench. But Kelly and I love each other. I could never be without her. We need you to marry us before it's too late." Young, impetuous love.

Marian looked to the rabbit. "And do you--" A ravenous growl cut Marian off and scraped the insides of her stomach. She felt so desperately empty. Her body clamored crudely for food. With one hand clutching her stomach, her other hand stabilized her against the tabletop. She fought through the torture with a grimace and resumed her sentence, "--feel the same way?"

Kelly the rabbit nodded rapidly, wagging her long ears. "Yes, very much so. You must marry us at once."

Hunger ravaged Marian. Her arm against the tabletop barely kept her sitting upright. She could not hide her improper weakness from her subjects, but she hoped to at least obscure it. "I see. And how long have you felt this way?" Her jaw surged with energy, eager to bite something in hopes of striking sustenance. Instead, her mandible fruitlessly grinded tooth on tooth.

Kelly looked to Barney. "Today's Tuesday, yes? Then..."

Barney grinned wide and faced Marian. "One entire week!"

After drawing a long breath to compose herself, Marian responded. "I am sympathetic to your plight. No one should be married against their wishes. However--" Another growl rocked her to her core. Her head swam, and she felt ready to topple over. At this point, she was willing to eat the table itself. "However, I cannot marry two people who have been madly in love for but a week."

Pushing aside her hunger, she recalled when she nourished a similarly passionate infatuation for Robin Hood. Then, they had sanctified their relationship in marriage. That came with responsibilities that hollowed out their love, as if draining it of sustenance. Her stomach rumbled.

The rhino interrupted. "But my father!"

Marian recoiled. She was so dizzy that even a strong statement challenged her balance. "Bring him in tomorrow."

The rabbit looked to the ground and mumbled. "So, you won't marry us?"

Sluggishly, Marian shook her head. "Not today. See me tomorrow with Barney's father. You are dismissed." She clenched her eyes shut. She couldn't decide their case until she had heard from the boy's father.

A wooden plate clattered in front of her. She opened her eyes to find a bread roll placed by Tim.

Hunger had wracked her so severely that she hadn't even heard him enter. Relieved, she shoved the roll into her mouth, and it slipped through her esophagus. Her stomach was so hungry that it vacuumed down the food without a single bite. "More. I need more." She normally showed the steward more courtesy, but her appetite was so dire that she could barely say that much.

Tim's expression widened, looking equal parts concerned and surprised. "Yes, Countess. Right away." He departed.

Marian's stomach boomed with a deep grumble, low in tone but loud in volume. The roar of hunger contorted her stomach to wring every last iota of nutrition from the meager roll. Seemingly, the bread roll had only inflamed her voracity. She caught her breath and waved forward the older couple. "Introduce yourselves. And please, be civil."

The woman, a svelte sparrow, marched forward with squared shoulders. Her long, blue dress flowed around her. "My name is Clarissa."

The man, a chubby badger, shuffled alongside her, rustling his wrinkled shirt and brown hose. His head sunk between his shoulders. "I'm Matthew."

Marian kneaded her stomach with both hands, but nothing could ease its clawing hunger. She uttered her words through pained grunts. "Clarissa. What is your petition?"

The sparrow, Clarissa, whipped her head aside, away from the badger. Her voice cut the room with a sharp cadence. "I'm here seeking divorce."

Offering a weak nod, Marian pressed further. "On what grounds?"

Clarissa looked askance at Matthew. "On the grounds that he's a cheating scumbag. I found him in the barn with our neighbor." This sounded messy, alright.

Marian looked to the badger. "And you, Matthew? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Matthew stared at his feet and talked in a slow, solemn tone. "It's true. I've committed adultery. But I'm sorry, miss--"

Marian cut him off. "Countess."

"--I'm sorry, Countess, and it will never happen again."

Clarissa cackled. "Pah! As if it hasn't already happened more than I can count. This time, I'm done forgiving you." Apparently, she had long put up with a lying, unfaithful husband. She painted a picture of a husband who had failed her time and again, a husband who had paid her lip service while refusing to grow and change.

Marian wondered if that was just the way with men. Perhaps a man could only ever be one thing, forever stuck in his ways.

Tim clattered another plate before her. On it sat a shepherd's pie with a beautiful, golden crust and a soothing, savory aroma. The prior day, one quarter of such a pie would have sated Marian's hunger.

Her stomach quaked violently. Its pangs snarled loudly and rocked her in her seat. Her muscles flooded with the desperate might of a frightened animal, and she snatched Tim by his tiny, little wrist. "Thank you. But, please, more. Much more."

He watched her with wide, quivering eyes. "Yes, Countess."

She let go.

Tim scuttled off.

Marian seized the pie in both hands. She thrust it into her face and crammed the crust's lip against the edges of her mouth. In an enormous, mouth-stretching bite, her ravenous teeth cleaved off a hefty portion. Meat, gravy, and vegetables gushed into her mouth as a salty, hearty stew. The bite was delicious, and it crammed her gullet full, but it landed in her gut like a meager crumb. Somewhere between her mouth and her stomach, the glut of food had reduced to nothing. She whined in disappointment.

Clarissa and Matthew watched her with furrowed, puzzled brows. Given Marian's urgent hunger, though, their opinion was of no consequence. She had to keep going.

She shredded another mouthful of shepherd's pie, hoping to feel something. She heard crunching crust, she tasted savory meat, she felt viscous gravy. Yet, for all those affirming sensations, the large glob of pie made no impact on her stomach. Bite after bite, she snared large bites with her sharp teeth, but they vanished upon leaving her esophagus. Her throat was full, but her stomach was empty. Marian's disappointment compounded on itself, forging in her muscles as steaming frustration. Each bite that failed her drove her to take her next bite more furiously.

Clarissa and Matthew fell from her awareness. Marian's only focus was the shepherd's pie.

Juicy beef and moist vegetables gushed between her teeth. Shards of brittle crust fell to the plate, momentarily dodging her appetite. Luscious gravy dotted her lips. She deftly lapped it up, sucking down every last speck. Nothing but a plate of crumbs remained. She lifted the plate to her lips, tilted, and inhaled them. Her anger mellowed as she came to realize that all her frenzy had been impotent, leaving her just as hungry as when the pie had arrived.

As Marian looked up from her meal, her stomach whined and roared for more. There was no more. Her only recourse was acceptance. She ignored her starved middle in order to render a verdict. "I will grant the divorce."

Matthew stomped his foot and shouted. "You have no right!"

Upturning her nose, Marian elevated her face as far as she could away from her grating gut. "Do not dare to raise your voice with me. Are you denying your adultery?" Her stomach howled and writhed, but she maintained her posture. She would not wither before anyone.

His face fell, and his eyes went blank. "No, I am not."

Marian shook her head. "Then my verdict is merely a reflection of the truth. In your faithless behavior, you have already dissolved your union." Marian's stomach squeezed and tore at itself while shrieking. She spoke over its din. "That leaves the matter of property. Matthew, have you a place to reside?"

Matthew turned a slow, sulking gaze to Clarissa. Then, he faced Marian. "Yes, my brother has a room for me."

"Good. Pack your belongings and make for his home. Clarissa, if you feel yourself in any mortal peril, the castle guard is ready to protect you."

Clarissa curtseyed. Her straight expression was solemn, as if relieved. "Thank you, Countess."

Marian sighed. "You are both dismissed." She was ready to be done with court and see to her hunger.

The former husband turned and shuffled away.

The former wife curtseyed again, then turned to watch Matthew leave. She waited for him to pass through the castle's front door before she left herself.

The warm, mild scent of freshly roasted fowl wafted by Marian's nose. Then, a platter slammed the table. Tim pushed it in front of Marian. It held the largest roasted turkey that Marian had ever seen.

She would eat every last scrap of meat on that bird. She could only hope that, then, her monstrous hunger would be sated.

Once a week, Robin Hood held court to hear petitions from commoners. Ostensibly. This week, for whatever reason, Robin had been absent for petitions, and Marian had just held court in his place. As she concluded, Marian sat alone in the great hall. Desperate pangs of hunger clawed and writhed in her stomach.

Over her growling, grumbling gut, she didn't hear the door behind her creak open. Her nose, alert to the slightest hint of edible materials, detected a warm aroma. It was mild, with just a hint of savory flavor. Instantly, her mind's eye conjured a fowl, roasted to a golden brown. Saliva welled in her mouth in preparation for the oncoming meal.

A platter slammed the table before her. Tim, the castle steward, pulled his hands away from it. The platter held the largest roasted turkey that Marian had ever seen.

She had hoped for a leg or a breast. What she received was the entire bird, and what a bird it was. She wanted to clutch the entire turkey in both hands and cleave her jaws right into it. Her body pulsated with the furious need to consume. Over her thundering gut, through her drooling mouth, she barely maintained composure. "Where did you find a turkey, ready to eat, at this hour?"

Tim walked around the table. His short mouse legs carried him so painfully slowly. "The cooks were practicing, Countess. I apologize for the size of the bird, but it was all I could find on such short notice."

Marian didn't dare to speak with her mouth full. She uttered a question so as to coax Tim into talking long enough for her to eat. "No need to apologize. Are there any other matters that Duke Hood was to address?"

Having successfully passed the hot potato to Tim, she lashed out at the turkey. In one hand, she clutched a turkey leg. Swift and lethal, her other hand snapped off the leg's drumstick. Its bulbous, meaty end was twice the size of her fist, too big for her dainty mouth. She pulled her lips back from her teeth, then sheared an immense hunk from the drumstick. Crispy skin split under her bite. It gave way to hot, juicy meat. She ripped the mouthful into brittle bits of skin and hearty shreds of meat.

The feel of something so hot and pliant between her jaws was an exquisite joy unto itself. She chewed for the joy of chewing, for the thrill of masticating something so rich and gushy. It was only a matter of convenience that the act also prepared her food for swallowing. The lump stuffed her gullet full with a satisfying stretch, the kind of stretch that she wanted to feel in her stomach. Instead, the morsel disappeared into her and left no mark. Her teeth scraped wet squelches as it tore meat from bone and picked the drumstick clean. In stark contrast to her euphoric exhilaration moments before, she was left with nothing but unfeeling emptiness. She set the bone down.

Tim droned over her eating. "Yes, there is one other matter to attend to. Your uncle, King Richard, will be here in five weeks. We must commence planning to celebrate the arrival of such an esteemed guest." He held an undisturbed expression, with an unruffled brow and a sober droop in his eyelids. He acted like Marian hadn't just savagely ripped through a drumstick.

Maybe Marian would have pondered Tim's behavior if her stomach wasn't a starving, clawing abyss. She ripped the turkey's thigh off, and she formed a response to hold him off while she ate. "I see. Let me think a moment."

She grasped the thigh in two hands, with one bone in her left hand and the other bone in her right. Hunger lunged her mouth forward, and her jaws severed a big chunk of meat. Her mouth usurped control, and she was only along for the ride. She bit through delectable turkey skin, and under it, her tongue found sweet, gamey dark meat. Extra fat padded it, lubricating its already juicy innards. Shreds and juices swirled through her mouth in an intoxicating torrent of taste. Her gullet, impatient for its own role in the dance, slurped it down.

She wanted to eat the turkey, but what she felt was more than that. Every part of her body wanted to grasp meat, rend it, and absorb it. With swift chomps, she tore meat from bone. She quickly left no strip of meat, and she placed the two clean thigh bones on the plate. She had exhausted one dance partner, but so many others remained. If none of them could satisfy her individually, surely all of them could collectively. Her lungs trembled with glee in anticipation of the gluttony before her.

The lack of meat in Marian's maw meant that it was time to respond to Tim. Fortunately, her meditations on eating had given her the perfect idea: dance partners. "Shall we hold a ball to honor King Richard?"

Tim nodded casually. "Yes, I think that should do well."

Still empty inside, Marian seized a wing, from its tip all the way to its drumstick. She caught the tip, cracked it off, and plunged it into her mouth. Finally, a piece of the bird that actually fit in her mouth. Her maw closed on it. Quickly, she yanked it out of her mouth, letting her teeth scrape the tip dry on its way back out. Juicy meat tumbled easily down her esophagus. The wingtip offered such a meager portion as to tease Marian. It gave her that pleasant denial, frustrating her just enough so as to make her future bites all the more satisfying.

After that, she ripped the wing's flat from its drumstick. Snatching the tip of the flat in both hands, she snapped its two bones apart, cracking ligaments and gushing meat. Even her arms joined in the process of grasping, tearing, and eating. Each hand held one long bone dripping with meat. She slurped off one bone. Her stomach demanded food, and her esophagus pined for it. Together, they harassed her to swallow the meat. But her mouth wanted more, too, and her hands needed to stuff her face.

Her mind, flooded with impulses, could only listen to one party. Giving in to her mouth, she sucked off the second thigh bone. It packed her cheeks with hot, gushing food. Her throat gulped that down just in time for her hand to grab the drumstick. She stuffed it in with a fatty squelch. A huge piece of meat crammed her maw and sweltered in dripping flavor. Immediately, she slurped it from the bone, loud and damp. Her teeth savored the meat in juicy chews, but she didn't have long before her stomach rumbled with jealousy. In an attempt to pacify it, her throat gulped, deep and wet, swallowing the end of the wing meat. Marian stumbled between a flurry of urges, and it gave her drunken pleasure to satisfy them each in turn.

She had distracted her stomach with enough food to buy her a moment to respond. Acting quickly, she spoke as soon as the turkey cleared her esophagus. "Very good. Gather a list of the surrounding nobles. We will also want to invite the best minstrels and troubadours." Her stomach snarled, which reminded her of one important note. "And, of course, we will need a meal of the highest caliber."

At last, Marian came to the turkey's breast. That immense portion was sure to pacify her. She dug her nails into the far edge of the breast, then tugged. In wet squelches, she sheared hot, cooked meat from the carcass. It produced a delectable, massive lump the size of her head. She spent a moment admiring its size before her stomach crooned for it.

Her stomach was insane. There was no way she could eat the entire breast, but she only had one way to prove her stomach wrong.

She jammed the breast as far into her mouth as she could. Her teeth bit off a huge hunk, but she didn't pull the breast away from her lips. Instead, her mandible lowered, and she shoved the breast farther in. She crammed meat down her gullet. After another bite, both hands pressed the breast meat against her face. Turkey swelled in her esophagus, stretching its walls and expanding her neck. Marian's face flushed with heat, and her nose expelled a passionate huff. She moaned luridly under thorough satisfaction.

Meat swelled outside of her face, too. Her pressing hands squeezed hot, juicy meat over her lips and against her cheeks. Her jaws cranked up and down while her hands shoved more and more breast down her throat. Some tumbled into her stomach, even before she had reached the end of the breast.

Every portion of her found satisfaction. Her hands gripped hard to hot, squelching meat, her teeth cleaved it to bits, her mouth and cheeks flooded with too much food, her gullet bloated with meat, and hunks filled up her belly. Marian ascended to new heights of pleasure as the big breast filled, stretched, and stuffed every segment of her devouring body.

She ravenously forced down the end of the breast in one rapacious gulp. Once the big lump popped through her gullet, it emptied her throat. She panted. The high of eating overwhelmed her, and her body reeled in the wake of such furious ecstasy.

She placed a hand on her stomach. It bulged against her dress, satisfied. She rubbed up and down, admiring its slight curve. She had always looked at other fat people, who were wide, thick, heavy, and round. The thought of becoming fat herself was surreal, inebriating. Even this small bloat made her so much more vivacious. What a waste it would be, then, if she didn't finish the turkey. Her stomach may have had enough to silence its pangs, but the feel of her hefty middle ushered her on.

Tim nodded the same as always. His demeanor remained unchanged, even after witnessing Marian's mad devouring. "I will draw up the invitations. I should also have a selection of performers here by next week."

Marian glanced to the turkey. She exercised patience by instead responding to Tim. "Excellent. Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all. Good day, Countess." He walked out, calm and orderly. He afforded her no less respect than usual.

Marian gripped the second turkey leg with one hand, and her other hand popped off the leg's drumstick. She clutched tight to the drumstick as her other hand descended to her stomach. Instinctually, she stroked up and down, hungry to observe the curve in her midsection. Her delicate fingers were so proud of her protruding middle.

Her ravenous teeth ripped delicious meat and pounded it down her gullet. Shreds of food contributed a tiny amount to the volume in her stomach. Just a tiny bit more stretching, just a tiny bit more space, just a tiny bit larger. Her hand roamed around her stomach, keen to feel her increased width from outside. But the change was much too small to feel with her fingers. She polished off the drumstick, and while her stomach eked out a touch more pleasure from the drumstick's modest portion, she had so much further to push it.

Her lower hand dared not leave her bloating belly. So, her upper hand retrieved the turkey thigh all on its own. With just one hand, she couldn't split the thigh. That was alright. Marian raised the leg to her lips. Using the voracious efficiency of her sharp teeth, strong jaws, and lusty lungs, her mouth ripped the meat right off its bones.

Over her own wet slurps and smacks, she heard the groaning seams of her waist. Inside, her stomach's inward pressure increased. Marian savored the growing rewards of her appetite. That growth pushed out against her palm. Just slightly, she felt her food-stuffed stomach bow out into her hand. It was too slight. It was just a tease. Marian needed to intensify its stretch to reach true satisfaction. She needed more turkey.

Caressing up and down, she observed her stomach's fuller curve, more protruding. How she wanted to behold its beautiful arc in a mirror. Not yet, though. She needed to consume every ounce of girth from her big, beautiful meal. Impatient, she seized the remaining wing in both hands. She lunged at it with precision and stripped any meat her tongue could find.

Under crunching skin, squelching meat, and damp gulps, she felt a seam pop on her waist. Its threads moaned. Her mouth's groans were improper, but her dress' creaks were downright obscene. Her midsection already pushed so hard on her clothing, but she needed it to push harder. Dry wing bones clattered to the plate. Cleaned of meat, they would offer no further assistance to her quest.

Both hands clasped to the remaining turkey breast. She sheared it off the bone in one clean jerk. Again, she crammed the enormous hunk against her mouth. While one hand jammed the breast slowly between her lips, her other hand descended to grope her engorging gut. She craved every moment of her heavenly expansion, and she couldn't let a single one pass without her hand to her bloating middle.

She rammed breast meat down her gullet. It pumped into her stomach. It pushed her pelt. It snapped several threads. She shoved more in. Her gut jerked with meat and tore lengthy rips in the sides of her dress. Tatters of her dress barely clung around her stiff stomach, which lurched out against her hand. Marian yelped. It was almost too much. A surplus of food tested the capacity of her organs and even her skin. Fresh air brushed her stretching, tender hide.

Yet it wasn't nearly enough. She pounded the end of the breast into her mouth. Her jaw ached as it cranked open wider than she thought possible. Her gullet, eager for its own stretch, sucked down the meat. The colossal portion bulged in her neck. With a shaky hand, she stroked the huge mass, massaging it down her esophagus. It plummeted in her stomach like a cannonball. Its impact burst her stomach into a wide sphere, out at her sides and jutting at her front. Rips and tears echoed off the walls as her gut completely shredded her dress' middle. Her belly, raw and taut, sat heavily in a lap of jittery legs and shredded clothing.

Marian's lips curled in glee, and she panted with exhilaration. She looked down at her gut, round and red with groaning stretch marks. Her mere touch tingled along its sensitive surface. Her heart raced.

She had to utter it out loud just to make it real. "This... This is me." Both hands traced its breadth, following from its protruding front to its bulging sides. She stroked up, where it jutted under her soft breasts, and she drifted down, where it weighed on her lithe legs and covered that ever more sensitive flower between her legs.

Out of the blue, Robin's voice called out behind her. "Am I late?"

Marian had forgotten her resentment. At the sound of Robin's voice, it all flooded back. "Yes. I concluded business without you."

Robin walked beside her. "Sorry, Little John and I were--holy mackerel!" He gazed down at her stomach.

She stroked her stomach lovingly. Her fingers sought to soothe its gurgling, churning insides and its tender, stretched pelt. "I also had a snack."

His face glowed red, and he tugged at his collar. "I can see that!"

Marian nodded. "You were saying? Little John and you were up to something?"

His ears folded down. "That's right. John, he found this great spot for fishing, and I thought I could see before court, but I got distracted."

She glared daggers into his meek eyes. "And now you're here."

"That's right. I'm real sorry." If he was truly sorry, he wouldn't do it again. But he would.

Marian put that aside. "Well, you're here now. Could you help me up to bed?"

"Sure thing. That looks mighty heavy." Robin leaned down. He wrapped an arm around her back and into her armpit.

"I assure you, it feels even heavier." As much as she hated Robin, she also desired his touch. Her swollen belly commanded such power, and she knew Robin would be helpless before its grandeur.

Robin took the invitation. He placed a hand to her side.

Her tight pelt vibrated at his touch. Her stomach bubbled, and hot air shot up her throat. A belch exploded from her lips, "BHWOOURP!" Below, her stomach clenched on her large stuffing, wringing gas out of her. The burp thundered pleasure along her muscles, from her gut through her gullet. It passed, and she sighed with satisfaction. She giggled and held a hand to her lips. "Oh my. That wasn't very ladylike."

He held her chin. "You are mistaken, my dear. Your actions define the essence of elegance. A burp from you is an angelic kiss of beauteous fulfillment." His face leaned to hers for a slow, sensuous smooch on the lips. His mouth, soft and smooth, gave her the perfect massage after her own mouth's vigorous exercise. His kiss ended too soon. "Now, let's get you to bed."

He stood, hoisting her out of the chair with his hand on her back. His other hand cradled her belly and helped to hold it steady. His grasp was so careful, so loving, and she filled it out.

As she raised a leg, it shifted her hip and pelvis, compressing her stomach. It snarled in response, unhappy to jostle its precious cargo. Marian winced in pain and put her leg back down. Instead, she shuffled her foot forward along the floor. Though her lumbering gait sloshed her belly side to side, it remained mostly happy.

Evidently, so was Robin. A firm protrusion tented his hose. It competed with Marian's belly to see which could poke out further. Though its appearance was ill timed, it inspired another wonderful sense of hunger in Marian.

Playfully, she scoffed. "Can't you keep that thing under control until we reach privacy?" Her eyes refused to look away from Robin's mighty sword.

"Not really, sorry. I can't help it. You're immaculate." His fingers gripped her underbelly firm but shaky, with a restrained tension, and his heart thumped against her shoulder. He seemed about ready to pounce on her right in the grand hall.

An ache writhed between Marian's legs. The sight of Robin's throbbing, clothed manhood intensified that ache in such a good way. "To be perfectly truthful, seeing it wears on my resolve. I don't know if I can make it to the bedroom."

They reached the door into the main hallway, and Robin took his hand away from Marian's belly. He pushed the door open and led her through. Just inside the main hallway, they met a door on the right. Robin pulled it open, and on the other side, they faced a spiral staircase up to the second floor. These stairs stood between Marian and dessert.

Robin rubbed under her belly. "You can do it. Just a little farther now." Easy for him to say. He wasn't lugging an entire turkey in his stomach.

Marian pitched one hip forward. As best as she could, she angled one leg to the side of her belly. Her bulbous, swollen middle groaned against her thigh and sloshed down into the other one. She put her foot down on the first step. She tensed her raised leg to haul her heft upward. Her lower foot successfully departed the ground.

All the while, Robin held her back steady, and he supported her belly from underneath.

With Robin's help, she placed her second foot on the stair. Though she could have easily carried the turkey meat in her hands, it weighed so much heavier from inside her. The trouble with satisfying her hunger was that a satisfied body required so much more maintenance.

She was grateful, then, that Robin assisted her in that task. His tender grasp eased the weight of her stretched gut. He matched her, step for step, helping her forward without pushing too fast. Without a word, his careful hold expressed how precious she was.

The pair worked up the stairs. The trek was long, and no words passed between them. Their plodding feet echoed off the stone walls, while the churning, gurgling noises of her stomach emanated around them.

Once they reached the top, Marian planted a hand to the wall and transferred a small portion of her weight to it. Her lungs heaved for air, but the volume of her stomach challenged her chest. Every breath inward expanded her stomach a touch, pinching her pelt with a perverse satisfaction. She could only withstand that pinch for a moment before breathing out to relax it. Her other hand rubbed her expanded middle. It billowed so sharp, so round, so magnificent from her middle. She was proud of its globular weight, but carrying it wasn't easy.

Just beyond the staircase, their bedroom door waited on the right hand side. Robin stepped forward and pushed it open. His voice drifted in a warm, intimate whisper. "Come on now. Not much farther." This time, he was right. He guided her inside and shut the door softly.

They crossed the room, her shuffling awkwardly and him stepping carefully.

She had to consider how to lay her sensitive midsection down. "I don't think I can sit again. Please, help me lay back on the bed."

"You got it." Robin stepped behind her. Holding her back, he guided it downward, onto the bed. He left her legs dangling off the bed. Then, he grabbed her ankles and pulled them towards the bed, pivoting the rest of her onto the mattress. If Marian asked Robin to handle a social responsibility, he wasn't reliable. But the man's hands worked with deft expertise.

Marian's stomach weighed into her as a huge sack of half-digested meat. "Oogh, not this." She pushed one elbow into the bed and pivoted one hip upward. After tilting a bit, her stomach sloshed off of her and walloped the bed in a thick churn. It was so heavy that it pulled her into laying on her side. With the weight off of her and onto the cushy mattress, she felt much better. She sighed in relief. "Yes, that's it."

After mounting the bed himself, Robin tugged at the skirt of Marian's dress. Her immense stomach had ripped the skirt clean from the top of her dress, after all. He freed her skirt from the bottom of her waist, granting sweet relief to the bottom of her bloat. He threw the skirt aside.

Then, he kneeled over Marian, with one knee on either side of her legs. He grinned wildly, like a beast about to devour his prey. But his hands descended on her stomach with gentle slightness. His fingertips, barely contacting her overstretched pelt, slowly stroked down her stomach. His fingers followed the wild curves at her middle. One hand climbed up her waist and down to her hip, while his other hand traced the front-facing bulge over her abs. He worshipped her precious, overstuffed gut with the tenderness it deserved.

Her middle cried with a groaning pelt and a churning gut. The unusual feeling burbled into pride and arousal. She had eaten herself into an overfed stupor, and the prospect left her more desperate to rut than she had ever been before.

Robin's touch softened the strain in her skin, and he coordinated the clamorous clutter inside her. His touch dulled her senses and pacified them. His doting caress on her inflated belly drew her into a blissful peace.

The more he soothed her, the hotter her arousal swelled. Her vagina was ready for its own stuffing, and it clenched, beckoning for Robin's cock. She called out to him, breathy. "Please, Robin. Your hose. I need you inside me."

His jaw dropped. Then, his brow furrowed, showing fortitude. "It would be my pleasure." Quickly and clumsily, he shuffled his hose off his legs. Then, he threw off his shirt. He kneeled naked over her. Between lithe legs, his cock jutted long and straight. Above, he flaunted a furry, toned middle and slight pecs. The sight of him was but an appetizer for the meal to come. "Do you want your top off, too?"

Sluggishly, Marian shook her head. "No. No, I'm not moving an inch." After all the work she'd done, it was time for her to take it easy and get something back. She stayed on her side.

Robin held her upper leg and carefully raised it. In so doing, he spread her open. "Leave it to me, Countess. This is the kind of labor I'm best at." He set her upper leg to the side of his firm waist. Leaving her lower leg on the bed, he straddled that one.

She felt his arrow's head against her humid slit. Robin always had been an expert marksman, and he was about to strike true her needy target. Slowly, he worked into her vulva. His thick cock slid gingerly between her slick walls, massaging wisps of pleasure into her. As his cock pushed against her svelte mons, that pushed her pelvis against her stomach.

Marian groped her stomach. It was so heavy that she felt tethered to it. Its intense stretching and loud sloshing competed with her other senses. "Please, be careful. I fear I may pop." Still, something about the precipice of danger thumped in her chest and heightened her senses, including the carnal ones.

Robin smirked. "Don't worry. You will pop, alright, just not in the way you're afraid of." He slowly pushed inward. He held steady, entering her gradually. Normally, an aroused Robin Hood was all too eager to thrust right into Marian, careless and manic. Instead, as he leaned over her burbling midsection, he entered gently. His firm cock stretched her walls with care, slowly immersing her in sexual delight. He pulled back, and his cock stroked her throbbing, tender walls. His sensual massage fed her thoroughly. Outside, his waist grinded her thigh, rubbing his firm side on her soft leg. He felt so manly against her.

She took his length with a long, low moan. After filling her belly, she gained new heights of satisfaction from glutting her pussy. Marian watched Robin, relishing in his handsome physique. Under normal circumstances, she would hold herself to him. She loved the press of his fur on her body. However, her bloated gut pinned her to the bed. All she could do was lay there and stroke the immense sack of food gurgling at her middle. Her lazy behavior excited a new desire in her. Instead of clinging to him in mad passion, she relaxed. She had nothing to do but lay still and enjoy her stuffed stomach. Her role was passive. Her job was to receive Robin's lust.

And he filled his role with dedication. Robin adjusted his sexual routine to meet her needs, calming his riotous urges into understated strokes. He made Marian a queen on their bed and served her with his strong, stiff length. His consistent stroke carried her on a slow, soothing ascent of increasing arousal. Each deliberate push inward stretched her walls gently.

Marian's walls clenched on his cock. Like her throat gulping a hunk of meat, her vagina stuffed itself on Robin's manhood.

His cock fed her a meal more delicious and filling than any which would enter her stomach. His great length filled her vagina, offering sustenance to every writhing inch of her pussy. Robin's thickness pushed on her walls with steely fortitude, as well. His cock gave her vagina a strong, unyielding spire to cling to. Though he moved slowly, his rutting was anything but subtle. His hardened girth tested the capacity of her starved walls, and each slow moment stretched incalculable euphoria within her.

She wrapped her tail to his backside. She used her fluffy tail to stroke his firm, pumping glutes. She was too stuffed to get up, but at least her tail could paw at him. "My handsome knight."

He brushed the back of his hand along her gurgling, rotund gut. "My beautiful princess." His cock pulsed. He took loud, heavy breaths. Marian knew these signs. He was on the verge.

Marian took his hand and held his palm to her stomach. "Please, touch my big, round belly. I want you to tell me how big it is." She knew her immense size, but she wanted to hear how much of her bulk filled Robin's lusty gaze.

Robin gulped. "You look enormous. Positively humongous." All the while, he maintained his careful pace, though his cock twitched. His hand, though perfectly still, comforted her stretched stomach with its soft pads. Her fat gut must've been driving him wild.

Truth be told, it drove Marian wild, too, especially under Robin's caring caress. She was his fat fuck, his lardy lay. "I'm so full, I can't eat another bite. But I haven't had enough. Can you fill me?" She looked up to him, batting her eyelashes.

His fingers tensed against her stomach. He grunted.

The base of his cock swelled. It knotted against her vaginal opening. He locked against her, flooding her with sexual pleasure. Now, they were truly one. Robin's inflated bulge meant that his manhood could not exit her until he climaxed. His giant meal was hers and hers alone.

Marian shivered and shook from the deluge of passion. Her vagina stretched around his knot and sweltered in a constant flame of ecstasy. Inexorably, carnal pleasure overtook her pussy, and she could only clutch her bloated belly and hang on for the ride. She yelped and barked, unable to restrain her passion. Waves of climax rocked her body. Her heavy stomach laid inert in the bed as the rest of her jerked with euphoria. Her orgasm blossomed through her stomach in soft, dull blooms.

Robin set both hands on the bed, and his knuckles curled. He grunted and cried. His cock pulsed even stronger against her walls, and then, he unleashed her creamy dessert. He shot long, thick loads into her.

His bloated cock ensured that neither partner could break from the heady pleasure of their climax. They were trapped together in blistering heat. He filled her, just as she had desired, and she got everything she wanted.

After he spent his last, he looked down at her, panting. They exchanged long, debaucherous gazes as they enjoyed the ebbing remains of their passion. His knot had yet to deflate, leaving them plenty to enjoy.

Robin's mouth opened. "I meant what I said. You look so lovely."

Marian giggled. "You didn't say that I looked lovely. You said that I looked humongous." In her post-coital delirium, it hardly mattered.

He raised a brow. "Is there a difference?" His cock slipped free and dripped her arousal on her leg. Spent, he flopped onto the bed beside Marian, facing her face. "Of course, it's more than your cute little tummy. There's your soft, bright fur." His hand massaged her arm fur, running his fingertips through her brilliant, red-orange hairs. They parted around his touch. "And your fingers." His hand moved down to her black digits and traced around them slowly. He swept over the contours of her fingers, out to their ends and inward to their knuckles. "And your ears." His hand moved up to her ear and pinched it. He gently stroked its pert, straight cartilage. "And your button nose." His index finger caressed down the front of her face, along the slender bridge of her nose, down to her dainty nose. He booped it. "And last, but not least, your long, bushy tail." He reached around her and massaged her tail, rustling its plush fur.

Marian cooed under his worshipful touch. She was glad to have a body that Robin doted on. "I'm grateful you are so fond of my features."

The pig's face entered Marian's mind. It brought a worry--a silly worry, but a worry nonetheless--that she might not be a fox for long.

She bit down her irrational concern. "If I did not have those features, would you still love me?"

Robin chuckled. "What do you mean? Planning to dock your tail, are you?"

Amused, but not comforted, Marian simply smiled. "No, I suppose not."

They laid together, gazing in each other's eyes. Their breaths aligned in sync.

Marian would've loved to lay there with him forever, but there was work to be done. "I know you like to nap after a good rut. However, I need you to see to dinner preparations."

He blinked quickly with wide, confused eyes. "Huh? Isn't that your responsibility?"

She nodded sluggishly. "It is. But I must sleep off this meal, and you must apologize for missing petitions." Her stomach granted her the weight she needed to ask for something she wanted.

Robin sighed. His long exhale and his low voice told her just how sour he was. "Alright. You've got me there." Upset or not, Marian would be asleep, and Robin would be someone else's problem.

Marian's heavy eyelids drifted shut. She barely heard Robin dress before slumber took her. How funny that a big meal should reward Marian twice over, once with good food and once with a good nap.

Once a week, Robin Hood held court to hear petitions from commoners. Ostensibly. This week, for whatever reason, Robin had been absent for petitions, and Marian had just held court in his place. As she concluded, Marian sat alone in the great hall. Desperate pangs of hunger clawed and writhed in her stomach.

Over her growling, grumbling gut, she didn't hear the door behind her creak open. Her nose, alert to the slightest hint of edible materials, detected a warm aroma. It was mild, with just a hint of savory flavor. Instantly, her mind's eye conjured a fowl, roasted to a golden brown. Saliva welled in her mouth in preparation for the oncoming meal.

A platter slammed the table before her. Tim, the castle steward, pulled his hands away from it. The platter held the largest roasted turkey that Marian had ever seen.

She had hoped for a leg or a breast. What she received was the entire bird, and what a bird it was. She wanted to clutch the entire turkey in both hands and cleave her jaws right into it. Her body pulsated with the furious need to consume. Over her thundering gut, through her drooling mouth, she barely maintained composure. "Where did you find a turkey, ready to eat, at this hour?"

Tim walked around the table. His short mouse legs carried him so painfully slowly. "The cooks were practicing, Countess. I apologize for the size of the bird, but it was all I could find on such short notice."

Marian didn't dare to speak with her mouth full. She uttered a question so as to coax Tim into talking long enough for her to eat. "No need to apologize. Are there any other matters that Duke Hood was to address?"

Having successfully passed the hot potato to Tim, she lashed out at the turkey. In one hand, she clutched a turkey leg. Swift and lethal, her other hand snapped off the leg's drumstick. Its bulbous, meaty end was twice the size of her fist, too big for her dainty mouth. She pulled her lips back from her teeth, then sheared an immense hunk from the drumstick. Crispy skin split under her bite. It gave way to hot, juicy meat. She ripped the mouthful into brittle bits of skin and hearty shreds of meat.

The feel of something so hot and pliant between her jaws was an exquisite joy unto itself. She chewed for the joy of chewing, for the thrill of masticating something so rich and gushy. It was only a matter of convenience that the act also prepared her food for swallowing. The lump stuffed her gullet full with a satisfying stretch, the kind of stretch that she wanted to feel in her stomach. Instead, the morsel disappeared into her and left no mark. Her teeth scraped wet squelches as it tore meat from bone and picked the drumstick clean. In stark contrast to her euphoric exhilaration moments before, she was left with nothing but unfeeling emptiness. She set the bone down.

Tim droned over her eating. "Yes, there is one other matter to attend to. Your uncle, King Richard, will be here in five weeks. We must commence planning to celebrate the arrival of such an esteemed guest." He held an undisturbed expression, with an unruffled brow and a sober droop in his eyelids. He acted like Marian hadn't just savagely ripped through a drumstick.

Maybe Marian would have pondered Tim's behavior if her stomach wasn't a starving, clawing abyss. She ripped the turkey's thigh off, and she formed a response to hold him off while she ate. "I see. Let me think a moment."

She grasped the thigh in two hands, with one bone in her left hand and the other bone in her right. Hunger lunged her mouth forward, and her jaws severed a big chunk of meat. Her mouth usurped control, and she was only along for the ride. She bit through delectable turkey skin, and under it, her tongue found sweet, gamey dark meat. Extra fat padded it, lubricating its already juicy innards. Shreds and juices swirled through her mouth in an intoxicating torrent of taste. Her gullet, impatient for its own role in the dance, slurped it down.

She wanted to eat the turkey, but what she felt was more than that. Every part of her body wanted to grasp meat, rend it, and absorb it. With swift chomps, she tore meat from bone. She quickly left no strip of meat, and she placed the two clean thigh bones on the plate. She had exhausted one dance partner, but so many others remained. If none of them could satisfy her individually, surely all of them could collectively. Her lungs trembled with glee in anticipation of the gluttony before her.

The lack of meat in Marian's maw meant that it was time to respond to Tim. Fortunately, her meditations on eating had given her the perfect idea: dance partners. "Shall we hold a ball to honor King Richard?"

Tim nodded casually. "Yes, I think that should do well."

Still empty inside, Marian seized a wing, from its tip all the way to its drumstick. She caught the tip, cracked it off, and plunged it into her mouth. Finally, a piece of the bird that actually fit in her mouth. Her maw closed on it. Quickly, she yanked it out of her mouth, letting her teeth scrape the tip dry on its way back out. Juicy meat tumbled easily down her esophagus. The wingtip offered such a meager portion as to tease Marian. It gave her that pleasant denial, frustrating her just enough so as to make her future bites all the more satisfying.

After that, she ripped the wing's flat from its drumstick. Snatching the tip of the flat in both hands, she snapped its two bones apart, cracking ligaments and gushing meat. Even her arms joined in the process of grasping, tearing, and eating. Each hand held one long bone dripping with meat. She slurped off one bone. Her stomach demanded food, and her esophagus pined for it. Together, they harassed her to swallow the meat. But her mouth wanted more, too, and her hands needed to stuff her face.

Her mind, flooded with impulses, could only listen to one party. Giving in to her mouth, she sucked off the second thigh bone. It packed her cheeks with hot, gushing food. Her throat gulped that down just in time for her hand to grab the drumstick. She stuffed it in with a fatty squelch. A huge piece of meat crammed her maw and sweltered in dripping flavor. Immediately, she slurped it from the bone, loud and damp. Her teeth savored the meat in juicy chews, but she didn't have long before her stomach rumbled with jealousy. In an attempt to pacify it, her throat gulped, deep and wet, swallowing the end of the wing meat. Marian stumbled between a flurry of urges, and it gave her drunken pleasure to satisfy them each in turn.

She had distracted her stomach with enough food to buy her a moment to respond. Acting quickly, she spoke as soon as the turkey cleared her esophagus. "Very good. Gather a list of the surrounding nobles. We will also want to invite the best minstrels and troubadours." Her stomach snarled, which reminded her of one important note. "And, of course, we will need a meal of the highest caliber."

At last, Marian came to the turkey's breast. That immense portion was sure to pacify her. She dug her nails into the far edge of the breast, then tugged. In wet squelches, she sheared hot, cooked meat from the carcass. It produced a delectable, massive lump the size of her head. She spent a moment admiring its size before her stomach crooned for it.

Her stomach was insane. There was no way she could eat the entire breast, but she only had one way to prove her stomach wrong.

She jammed the breast as far into her mouth as she could. Her teeth bit off a huge hunk, but she didn't pull the breast away from her lips. Instead, her mandible lowered, and she shoved the breast farther in. She crammed meat down her gullet. After another bite, both hands pressed the breast meat against her face. Turkey swelled in her esophagus, stretching its walls and expanding her neck. Marian's face flushed with heat, and her nose expelled a passionate huff. She moaned luridly under thorough satisfaction.

Meat swelled outside of her face, too. Her pressing hands squeezed hot, juicy meat over her lips and against her cheeks. Her jaws cranked up and down while her hands shoved more and more breast down her throat. Some tumbled into her stomach, even before she had reached the end of the breast.

Every portion of her found satisfaction. Her hands gripped hard to hot, squelching meat, her teeth cleaved it to bits, her mouth and cheeks flooded with too much food, her gullet bloated with meat, and hunks filled up her belly. Marian ascended to new heights of pleasure as the big breast filled, stretched, and stuffed every segment of her devouring body.

She ravenously forced down the end of the breast in one rapacious gulp. Once the big lump popped through her gullet, it emptied her throat. She panted. The high of eating overwhelmed her, and her body reeled in the wake of such furious ecstasy.

She placed a hand on her stomach. It bulged against her dress, satisfied. She rubbed up and down, admiring its slight curve. She had always looked at other fat people, who were wide, thick, heavy, and round. The thought of becoming fat herself was surreal, inebriating. Even this small bloat made her so much more vivacious. What a waste it would be, then, if she didn't finish the turkey. Her stomach may have had enough to silence its pangs, but the feel of her hefty middle ushered her on.

Tim nodded the same as always. His demeanor remained unchanged, even after witnessing Marian's mad devouring. "I will draw up the invitations. I should also have a selection of performers here by next week."

Marian glanced to the turkey. She exercised patience by instead responding to Tim. "Excellent. Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all. Good day, Countess." He walked out, calm and orderly. He afforded her no less respect than usual.

Marian gripped the second turkey leg with one hand, and her other hand popped off the leg's drumstick. She clutched tight to the drumstick as her other hand descended to her stomach. Instinctually, she stroked up and down, hungry to observe the curve in her midsection. Her delicate fingers were so proud of her protruding middle.

Her ravenous teeth ripped delicious meat and pounded it down her gullet. Shreds of food contributed a tiny amount to the volume in her stomach. Just a tiny bit more stretching, just a tiny bit more space, just a tiny bit larger. Her hand roamed around her stomach, keen to feel her increased width from outside. But the change was much too small to feel with her fingers. She polished off the drumstick, and while her stomach eked out a touch more pleasure from the drumstick's modest portion, she had so much further to push it.

Her lower hand dared not leave her bloating belly. So, her upper hand retrieved the turkey thigh all on its own. With just one hand, she couldn't split the thigh. That was alright. Marian raised the leg to her lips. Using the voracious efficiency of her sharp teeth, strong jaws, and lusty lungs, her mouth ripped the meat right off its bones.

Over her own wet slurps and smacks, she heard the groaning seams of her waist. Inside, her stomach's inward pressure increased. Marian savored the growing rewards of her appetite. That growth pushed out against her palm. Just slightly, she felt her food-stuffed stomach bow out into her hand. It was too slight. It was just a tease. Marian needed to intensify its stretch to reach true satisfaction. She needed more turkey.

Caressing up and down, she observed her stomach's fuller curve, more protruding. How she wanted to behold its beautiful arc in a mirror. Not yet, though. She needed to consume every ounce of girth from her big, beautiful meal. Impatient, she seized the remaining wing in both hands. She lunged at it with precision and stripped any meat her tongue could find.

Under crunching skin, squelching meat, and damp gulps, she felt a seam pop on her waist. Its threads moaned. Her mouth's groans were improper, but her dress' creaks were downright obscene. Her midsection already pushed so hard on her clothing, but she needed it to push harder. Dry wing bones clattered to the plate. Cleaned of meat, they would offer no further assistance to her quest.

Both hands clasped to the remaining turkey breast. She sheared it off the bone in one clean jerk. Again, she crammed the enormous hunk against her mouth. While one hand jammed the breast slowly between her lips, her other hand descended to grope her engorging gut. She craved every moment of her heavenly expansion, and she couldn't let a single one pass without her hand to her bloating middle.

She rammed breast meat down her gullet. It pumped into her stomach. It pushed her pelt. It snapped several threads. She shoved more in. Her gut jerked with meat and tore lengthy rips in the sides of her dress. Tatters of her dress barely clung around her stiff stomach, which lurched out against her hand. Marian yelped. It was almost too much. A surplus of food tested the capacity of her organs and even her skin. Fresh air brushed her stretching, tender hide.

Yet it wasn't nearly enough. She pounded the end of the breast into her mouth. Her jaw ached as it cranked open wider than she thought possible. Her gullet, eager for its own stretch, sucked down the meat. The colossal portion bulged in her neck. With a shaky hand, she stroked the huge mass, massaging it down her esophagus. It plummeted in her stomach like a cannonball. Its impact burst her stomach into a wide sphere, out at her sides and jutting at her front. Rips and tears echoed off the walls as her gut completely shredded her dress' middle. Her belly, raw and taut, sat heavily in a lap of jittery legs and shredded clothing.

Marian's lips curled in glee, and she panted with exhilaration. She looked down at her gut, round and red with groaning stretch marks. Her mere touch tingled along its sensitive surface. Her heart raced.

She had to utter it out loud just to make it real. "This... This is me." Both hands traced its breadth, following from its protruding front to its bulging sides. She stroked up, where it jutted under her soft breasts, and she drifted down, where it weighed on her lithe legs and covered that ever more sensitive flower between her legs.

Out of the blue, Robin's voice called out behind her. "Am I late?"

Marian had forgotten her resentment. At the sound of Robin's voice, it all flooded back. "Yes. I concluded business without you."

Robin walked beside her. "Sorry, Little John and I were--holy mackerel!" He gazed down at her stomach.

She stroked her stomach lovingly. Her fingers sought to soothe its gurgling, churning insides and its tender, stretched pelt. "I also had a snack."

His face glowed red, and he tugged at his collar. "I can see that!"

Marian nodded. "You were saying? Little John and you were up to something?"

His ears folded down. "That's right. John, he found this great spot for fishing, and I thought I could see before court, but I got distracted."

She glared daggers into his meek eyes. "And now you're here."

"That's right. I'm real sorry." If he was truly sorry, he wouldn't do it again. But he would.

Marian put that aside. "Well, you're here now. Could you help me up to bed?"

"Sure thing. That looks mighty heavy." Robin leaned down. He wrapped an arm around her back and into her armpit.

"I assure you, it feels even heavier." As much as she hated Robin, she also desired his touch. Her swollen belly commanded such power, and she knew Robin would be helpless before its grandeur.

Robin took the invitation. He placed a hand to her side.

Her tight pelt vibrated at his touch. Her stomach bubbled, and hot air shot up her throat. A belch exploded from her lips, "BHWOOURP!" Below, her stomach clenched on her large stuffing, wringing gas out of her. The burp thundered pleasure along her muscles, from her gut through her gullet. It passed, and she sighed with satisfaction. She giggled and held a hand to her lips. "Oh my. That wasn't very ladylike."

He held her chin. "You are mistaken, my dear. Your actions define the essence of elegance. A burp from you is an angelic kiss of beauteous fulfillment." His face leaned to hers for a slow, sensuous smooch on the lips. His mouth, soft and smooth, gave her the perfect massage after her own mouth's vigorous exercise. His kiss ended too soon. "Now, let's get you to bed."

He stood, hoisting her out of the chair with his hand on her back. His other hand cradled her belly and helped to hold it steady. His grasp was so careful, so loving, and she filled it out.

As she raised a leg, it shifted her hip and pelvis, compressing her stomach. It snarled in response, unhappy to jostle its precious cargo. Marian winced in pain and put her leg back down. Instead, she shuffled her foot forward along the floor. Though her lumbering gait sloshed her belly side to side, it remained mostly happy.

Evidently, so was Robin. A firm protrusion tented his hose. It competed with Marian's belly to see which could poke out further. Though its appearance was ill timed, it inspired another wonderful sense of hunger in Marian.

Playfully, she scoffed. "Can't you keep that thing under control until we reach privacy?" Her eyes refused to look away from Robin's mighty sword.

"Not really, sorry. I can't help it. You're immaculate." His fingers gripped her underbelly firm but shaky, with a restrained tension, and his heart thumped against her shoulder. He seemed about ready to pounce on her right in the grand hall.

An ache writhed between Marian's legs. The sight of Robin's throbbing, clothed manhood intensified that ache in such a good way. "To be perfectly truthful, seeing it wears on my resolve. I don't know if I can make it to the bedroom."

They reached the door into the main hallway, and Robin took his hand away from Marian's belly. He pushed the door open and led her through. Just inside the main hallway, they met a door on the right. Robin pulled it open, and on the other side, they faced a spiral staircase up to the second floor. These stairs stood between Marian and dessert.

Robin rubbed under her belly. "You can do it. Just a little farther now." Easy for him to say. He wasn't lugging an entire turkey in his stomach.

Marian pitched one hip forward. As best as she could, she angled one leg to the side of her belly. Her bulbous, swollen middle groaned against her thigh and sloshed down into the other one. She put her foot down on the first step. She tensed her raised leg to haul her heft upward. Her lower foot successfully departed the ground.

All the while, Robin held her back steady, and he supported her belly from underneath.

With Robin's help, she placed her second foot on the stair. Though she could have easily carried the turkey meat in her hands, it weighed so much heavier from inside her. The trouble with satisfying her hunger was that a satisfied body required so much more maintenance.

She was grateful, then, that Robin assisted her in that task. His tender grasp eased the weight of her stretched gut. He matched her, step for step, helping her forward without pushing too fast. Without a word, his careful hold expressed how precious she was.

The pair worked up the stairs. The trek was long, and no words passed between them. Their plodding feet echoed off the stone walls, while the churning, gurgling noises of her stomach emanated around them.

Once they reached the top, Marian planted a hand to the wall and transferred a small portion of her weight to it. Her lungs heaved for air, but the volume of her stomach challenged her chest. Every breath inward expanded her stomach a touch, pinching her pelt with a perverse satisfaction. She could only withstand that pinch for a moment before breathing out to relax it. Her other hand rubbed her expanded middle. It billowed so sharp, so round, so magnificent from her middle. She was proud of its globular weight, but carrying it wasn't easy.

Just beyond the staircase, their bedroom door waited on the right hand side. Robin stepped forward and pushed it open. His voice drifted in a warm, intimate whisper. "Come on now. Not much farther." This time, he was right. He guided her inside and shut the door softly.

They crossed the room, her shuffling awkwardly and him stepping carefully.

She had to consider how to lay her sensitive midsection down. "I don't think I can sit again. Please, help me lay back on the bed."

"You got it." Robin stepped behind her. Holding her back, he guided it downward, onto the bed. He left her legs dangling off the bed. Then, he grabbed her ankles and pulled them towards the bed, pivoting the rest of her onto the mattress. If Marian asked Robin to handle a social responsibility, he wasn't reliable. But the man's hands worked with deft expertise.

Marian's stomach weighed into her as a huge sack of half-digested meat. "Oogh, not this." She pushed one elbow into the bed and pivoted one hip upward. After tilting a bit, her stomach sloshed off of her and walloped the bed in a thick churn. It was so heavy that it pulled her into laying on her side. With the weight off of her and onto the cushy mattress, she felt much better. She sighed in relief. "Yes, that's it."

After mounting the bed himself, Robin tugged at the skirt of Marian's dress. Her immense stomach had ripped the skirt clean from the top of her dress, after all. He freed her skirt from the bottom of her waist, granting sweet relief to the bottom of her bloat. He threw the skirt aside.

Then, he kneeled over Marian, with one knee on either side of her legs. He grinned wildly, like a beast about to devour his prey. But his hands descended on her stomach with gentle slightness. His fingertips, barely contacting her overstretched pelt, slowly stroked down her stomach. His fingers followed the wild curves at her middle. One hand climbed up her waist and down to her hip, while his other hand traced the front-facing bulge over her abs. He worshipped her precious, overstuffed gut with the tenderness it deserved.

Her middle cried with a groaning pelt and a churning gut. The unusual feeling burbled into pride and arousal. She had eaten herself into an overfed stupor, and the prospect left her more desperate to rut than she had ever been before.

Robin's touch softened the strain in her skin, and he coordinated the clamorous clutter inside her. His touch dulled her senses and pacified them. His doting caress on her inflated belly drew her into a blissful peace.

The more he soothed her, the hotter her arousal swelled. Her vagina was ready for its own stuffing, and it clenched, beckoning for Robin's cock. She called out to him, breathy. "Please, Robin. Your hose. I need you inside me."

His jaw dropped. Then, his brow furrowed, showing fortitude. "It would be my pleasure." Quickly and clumsily, he shuffled his hose off his legs. Then, he threw off his shirt. He kneeled naked over her. Between lithe legs, his cock jutted long and straight. Above, he flaunted a furry, toned middle and slight pecs. The sight of him was but an appetizer for the meal to come. "Do you want your top off, too?"

Sluggishly, Marian shook her head. "No. No, I'm not moving an inch." After all the work she'd done, it was time for her to take it easy and get something back. She stayed on her side.

Robin held her upper leg and carefully raised it. In so doing, he spread her open. "Leave it to me, Countess. This is the kind of labor I'm best at." He set her upper leg to the side of his firm waist. Leaving her lower leg on the bed, he straddled that one.

She felt his arrow's head against her humid slit. Robin always had been an expert marksman, and he was about to strike true her needy target. Slowly, he worked into her vulva. His thick cock slid gingerly between her slick walls, massaging wisps of pleasure into her. As his cock pushed against her svelte mons, that pushed her pelvis against her stomach.

Marian groped her stomach. It was so heavy that she felt tethered to it. Its intense stretching and loud sloshing competed with her other senses. "Please, be careful. I fear I may pop." Still, something about the precipice of danger thumped in her chest and heightened her senses, including the carnal ones.

Robin smirked. "Don't worry. You will pop, alright, just not in the way you're afraid of." He slowly pushed inward. He held steady, entering her gradually. Normally, an aroused Robin Hood was all too eager to thrust right into Marian, careless and manic. Instead, as he leaned over her burbling midsection, he entered gently. His firm cock stretched her walls with care, slowly immersing her in sexual delight. He pulled back, and his cock stroked her throbbing, tender walls. His sensual massage fed her thoroughly. Outside, his waist grinded her thigh, rubbing his firm side on her soft leg. He felt so manly against her.

She took his length with a long, low moan. After filling her belly, she gained new heights of satisfaction from glutting her pussy. Marian watched Robin, relishing in his handsome physique. Under normal circumstances, she would hold herself to him. She loved the press of his fur on her body. However, her bloated gut pinned her to the bed. All she could do was lay there and stroke the immense sack of food gurgling at her middle. Her lazy behavior excited a new desire in her. Instead of clinging to him in mad passion, she relaxed. She had nothing to do but lay still and enjoy her stuffed stomach. Her role was passive. Her job was to receive Robin's lust.

And he filled his role with dedication. Robin adjusted his sexual routine to meet her needs, calming his riotous urges into understated strokes. He made Marian a queen on their bed and served her with his strong, stiff length. His consistent stroke carried her on a slow, soothing ascent of increasing arousal. Each deliberate push inward stretched her walls gently.

Marian's walls clenched on his cock. Like her throat gulping a hunk of meat, her vagina stuffed itself on Robin's manhood.

His cock fed her a meal more delicious and filling than any which would enter her stomach. His great length filled her vagina, offering sustenance to every writhing inch of her pussy. Robin's thickness pushed on her walls with steely fortitude, as well. His cock gave her vagina a strong, unyielding spire to cling to. Though he moved slowly, his rutting was anything but subtle. His hardened girth tested the capacity of her starved walls, and each slow moment stretched incalculable euphoria within her.

She wrapped her tail to his backside. She used her fluffy tail to stroke his firm, pumping glutes. She was too stuffed to get up, but at least her tail could paw at him. "My handsome knight."

He brushed the back of his hand along her gurgling, rotund gut. "My beautiful princess." His cock pulsed. He took loud, heavy breaths. Marian knew these signs. He was on the verge.

Marian took his hand and held his palm to her stomach. "Please, touch my big, round belly. I want you to tell me how big it is." She knew her immense size, but she wanted to hear how much of her bulk filled Robin's lusty gaze.

Robin gulped. "You look enormous. Positively humongous." All the while, he maintained his careful pace, though his cock twitched. His hand, though perfectly still, comforted her stretched stomach with its soft pads. Her fat gut must've been driving him wild.

Truth be told, it drove Marian wild, too, especially under Robin's caring caress. She was his fat fuck, his lardy lay. "I'm so full, I can't eat another bite. But I haven't had enough. Can you fill me?" She looked up to him, batting her eyelashes.

His fingers tensed against her stomach. He grunted.

The base of his cock swelled. It knotted against her vaginal opening. He locked against her, flooding her with sexual pleasure. Now, they were truly one. Robin's inflated bulge meant that his manhood could not exit her until he climaxed. His giant meal was hers and hers alone.

Marian shivered and shook from the deluge of passion. Her vagina stretched around his knot and sweltered in a constant flame of ecstasy. Inexorably, carnal pleasure overtook her pussy, and she could only clutch her bloated belly and hang on for the ride. She yelped and barked, unable to restrain her passion. Waves of climax rocked her body. Her heavy stomach laid inert in the bed as the rest of her jerked with euphoria. Her orgasm blossomed through her stomach in soft, dull blooms.

Robin set both hands on the bed, and his knuckles curled. He grunted and cried. His cock pulsed even stronger against her walls, and then, he unleashed her creamy dessert. He shot long, thick loads into her.

His bloated cock ensured that neither partner could break from the heady pleasure of their climax. They were trapped together in blistering heat. He filled her, just as she had desired, and she got everything she wanted.

After he spent his last, he looked down at her, panting. They exchanged long, debaucherous gazes as they enjoyed the ebbing remains of their passion. His knot had yet to deflate, leaving them plenty to enjoy.

Robin's mouth opened. "I meant what I said. You look so lovely."

Marian giggled. "You didn't say that I looked lovely. You said that I looked humongous." In her post-coital delirium, it hardly mattered.

He raised a brow. "Is there a difference?" His cock slipped free and dripped her arousal on her leg. Spent, he flopped onto the bed beside Marian, facing her face. "Of course, it's more than your cute little tummy. There's your soft, bright fur." His hand massaged her arm fur, running his fingertips through her brilliant, red-orange hairs. They parted around his touch. "And your fingers." His hand moved down to her black digits and traced around them slowly. He swept over the contours of her fingers, out to their ends and inward to their knuckles. "And your ears." His hand moved up to her ear and pinched it. He gently stroked its pert, straight cartilage. "And your button nose." His index finger caressed down the front of her face, along the slender bridge of her nose, down to her dainty nose. He booped it. "And last, but not least, your long, bushy tail." He reached around her and massaged her tail, rustling its plush fur.

Marian cooed under his worshipful touch. She was glad to have a body that Robin doted on. "I'm grateful you are so fond of my features."

The pig's face entered Marian's mind. It brought a worry--a silly worry, but a worry nonetheless--that she might not be a fox for long.

She bit down her irrational concern. "If I did not have those features, would you still love me?"

Robin chuckled. "What do you mean? Planning to dock your tail, are you?"

Amused, but not comforted, Marian simply smiled. "No, I suppose not."

They laid together, gazing in each other's eyes. Their breaths aligned in sync.

Marian would've loved to lay there with him forever, but there was work to be done. "I know you like to nap after a good rut. However, I need you to see to dinner preparations."

He blinked quickly with wide, confused eyes. "Huh? Isn't that your responsibility?"

She nodded sluggishly. "It is. But I must sleep off this meal, and you must apologize for missing petitions." Her stomach granted her the weight she needed to ask for something she wanted.

Robin sighed. His long exhale and his low voice told her just how sour he was. "Alright. You've got me there." Upset or not, Marian would be asleep, and Robin would be someone else's problem.

Marian's heavy eyelids drifted shut. She barely heard Robin dress before slumber took her. How funny that a big meal should reward Marian twice over, once with good food and once with a good nap.

Marian's appetites fit into a small, petite space between all of her responsibilities. On one day alone, she taught daily school, sewed clothing, and prepared dinner. She also picked up whatever Robin did not complete, which on that day meant reviewing tax income. No responsibility occupied the time between sewing and dinner. So, Marian slotted badminton into that slender space. She had to take care to conclude the game on time. Otherwise, she risked overflowing the time that belonged to her.

The sun had only just begun its descent, reclining from its peak while still basking the castle courtyard in warm light. An easy breeze relieved the summer heat and carried the fragrance of nearby flowers.

Marian, racket in hand, faced a long, white net. In the prior week, her body had accumulated a wealth of softness. Fresh pudge lined her calves, causing them to bounce, and it thickened her thighs, rubbing them constantly. Shamefully, their soft, colliding flesh felt more like a relaxing massage. Widened hips pulled her dress taut. The curves looked daring and alluring, which is to say, not at all appropriate for a demure woman of her station. Above, flesh rounded her midsection. It cushioned her waist and plumped her stomach into the front of her dress, swollen within cloth confines. Her stomach's padding introduced a welcome, soft reinforcement to her frame, even though she should have been slight and frail. Her portly breasts bulged not with milk but with fat. They were excessive, as if she could not help but puff out her chest. It puffed out with fat all on its own. Her newly flabby arms held up her racket, while she looked over bubbly cheeks. Her face felt fuller, more merry. It gave her an appearance of pleasure, when she should have been sober.

On the other side of the net stood Klucky with her racket and the shuttlecock. Though her gown was long and flowing, her girth left no contour to the imagination. Her vast hips and immense waist stretched the garment tight over her rotund gut, which weighed far down her legs. Two colossal breasts filled her neckline. Even with the aid of a supportive brassiere, her bosom was so heavy that it sloshed visibly, especially during such energetic activity as badminton. A chunky rim of fat supported her neck. Her appearance was soft and comforting, like a warm bowl of porridge.

Kluck threw the shuttlecock upward, tossing her breasts aside. Then, she batted it with the racket, jostling her gut while sending the shuttlecock to Marian's side of the net.

The shuttlecock's trajectory carried it towards the left side of the court.

"I've got it!" Marian rushed for the badminton missile. She darted, pushing hard with one leg while swinging her other leg ahead. Her meaty thigh squashed her belly from beneath. Her thickened hips twisted and pulled her dress firm over her bubbly backside. In kind, her behind pushed its plump flesh out against her dress. Every movement reminded Marian of how plush she had grown.

In the war between her rump's cheeks and her dress, her rump won. Under her tail, her derriere popped her dress' seams in rapid succession. It uttered a loud, unmistakable rip. She halted to the best of her ability, though her extra heft carried her momentum. It threw her off balance. She hurtled to the ground, where she fell beside the shuttlecock among fresh grass. "Oof!" Though the ground hit her fast, her softened physique absorbed much of the impact. She leaned up on an elbow, onto her side, scrunching her waist's rolls into each other. Heat flooded her cheeks. It wasn't her most graceful moment.

Across the court, Kluck stared down at her with a cheeky grin and her hands on her hips. "Got a wee bit of a rive there, have you?"

Marian put a hand behind her and reached under her tail. Her fingertips found squishy flab, covered in thinning fur, pressing out through a brand new hole down the back of her dress. Her butt crack puckered through the rip. "A bit of one, yes." As she sat fully upright, her belly pushed hard against her dress. The constricting garment compressed her flabby middle painfully and mashed a dull ache into her back. Once she rose to her feet, her middle fit a little easier. She brushed herself off.

At the same time, Kluck waddled to her, sloshing her wide bulk side to side with ungainly steps. "Let's take you inside for a spot of mending."

"Really, it's no problem at all." Marian bent over to grab the shuttlecock. After a loud tear, she felt more air brush her backside. She had just pushed more flab through the seat of her dress. "On second thought, perhaps we ought to do that." She left the shuttlecock on the ground as she stood straight.

Kluck put her wing around Marian's back. "Come, we'll get you fixed right up in the dressing room." She held Marian close to her fluffy, bulbous side. No matter what, that fatty feeling soothed Marian.

The pair travelled like that, Marian under Kluck's wing, towards the castle. They shared an awkward silence interrupted only by rustling grass under their feet. They approached the castle from the side to a wide, wooden door.

Kluck opened the door and guided Marian inward. Ahead was a stony corridor leading to the halfway point of the main hallway.

Marian nodded her head. "Thank you."

While they walked to the main hallway, Marian's generous hips swayed with their newfound curves. Her side grinded and rustled against Kluck's fulsome waist, like rubbing two overstuffed cushions on each other. It was a strange sense of camaraderie, the way Marian's fat met Kluck's.

At the main hallway, Kluck turned right. To their left was the kitchen; to their right, the fitting room. Again, Kluck turned right, and she opened the door. This time, she led Marian into a room of threads and needles, with a workbench and a loom. Kluck shut the door. The two were alone.

Kluck stared at Marian's face. Her beak pursed, and her eyes squinted.

Marian waited for her to do something. "Quite alright, Klucky?" She wanted to weather this situation without scrutiny of her person, but knowing Kluck, scrutiny was inescapable.

Kluck put her hand under Marian's soft chin. "Has your nose always been so dull?"

The answer was no. Marian had noticed the same thing, that her nose had expanded and flattened. Her former button nose had broadened from a pinprick into a thumbprint. Still, she laughed it off. "Oh, you must be seeing things." Marian didn't know how to tell herself that she was changing, to say nothing of explaining the matter to Kluck.

Unpersuaded, Kluck stroked along Marian's jawline. "And your fur. War't it a fair bit longer? It looks so short now. It used to wash you in thick sweeps of hair, but now, it barely covers your skin."

Marian pulled her hood down from her scalp. She had to get undressed to move things along and get out of the conversation. "Really. I don't see the purpose of inspecting my coat. We retired to mend my dress."

Kluck gasped when she saw Marian's bare scalp. "Your ears! Don't you see how they swacken?" She pinched one of Marian's ears in her fingers and held it straight up. As soon as she let go, though, it slumped slightly downward.

Day after day, Marian had watched these changes unfold on her body. She had lied to herself, unable to face reality. But here, alone with her lady in waiting, there was no hiding.

The old Scotswoman was no simpleton.

For Marian, the fear of change mingled with excitement. "To be perfectly forthright, I may have done something foolish." She looked aside. Saying the words was hard enough without facing Kluck. To bare her whims was to admit her irrational, shameful decision.

Kluck cocked her head. "Out with it, nacket."

"I drank a potion. That is--you see, it was a special kind of potion. Have you ever noticed a difference between the reflection in a mirror and your own self?" Marian found no sensible way to begin her confession.

"You're blathering nonsense. This potion wouldn't be of an intoxicating sort, would it?" Kluck's narrowed eyes evidenced her skepticism.

That was exactly what Marian needed. When she heard the potion maligned, Marian's heart pushed back. Her withering indecision slowly fortified into certainty in her chest, and she faced Kluck directly. "Not at all. This potion, it's having a good effect on me. A rather good effect. You might not agree, and others might not agree, but it makes me more... true. This change isn't a matter of desire. I'm already a pig. This is simply my body catching up."

Kluck's eyes darted up and down. Something brewed within her mind. In all likelihood, the fantastical nature of Marian's confession challenged her. "A pig, you say? That must have been some potion. I dinnae smell any ale on your breath, though. Mayhaps you ate a mushroom?"

Marian clasped her hands over Kluck's. "Klucky. I don't know what was in the potion. All that matters is that I'm growing into a swine." Her heart thumped anxiously.

Kluck ripped her hands away from Marian's grasp. "I'll say. Your fingers are hard, like--like hooves..." She waddled to Marian's backside. "And your tail. There's no doubt that it's become shorter. Used to go down to your ankles, now it just reaches your knees." She gripped Marian's shoulders and twisted her to face her. Kluck's eyes widened, and her voice bellowed. "Heaven's sakes, what have you done?"

From the corners of Marian's eyes, water welled. "I've found myself. Here I am. Well, not quite. But I'm getting here. It would mean quite a lot to me if you still loved me, although I understand if you don't."

With a deep breath, Kluck heaved her broad bosom. "Of course I love you, lass. Don't be so silly. I only rather you'd have asked me first."

Marian's chest tensed. "Oh? And if I informed you that I possessed a potion that would transform me into a pig, what would you have advised?"

Kluck flapped her wings. "Spill it on the ground! What business have you toying with your flesh and bone? Not to mention, your flesh and bone is the envy of so many across the land." There was nothing Kluck could say that Marian hadn't already considered.

"I will confess, I will miss that. Even now, I feel the difference in how my subjects regard me. Where there were smiles of easy attention, there are now frowns of obligation. I suspect it will only intensify. But I am still Countess. And, more importantly, I am still Marian. I value your judgment, but this was a decision only for me." So certain of her decision, yet wary of its consequences, Marian's nervousness weighed in her gut.

Shaking her head, Kluck crossed her arms. "I don't approve. I think you should find a potion to reverse this nonsense immediately. But I know two things about my lassie, Marian. The first is that, once a thought enters her mind, it cannae be dispelled. The second is that she's sharp as a tack. I'm not so sure about this whole pig enterprise. But if you are sure, that is all I need to know."

Marian mulled over those words. "That's about as clear as mud. Are you with me or not?"

With furrowed brows, Kluck glared at her. A silent brawl must have taken place behind her eyes. At last, she spoke. "I'm conflummixt. But, if nothing else, I have a fondness for you that nothing can sunder."

Droplets broke from Marian's eyes and wet her cheeks. Anxiety had dammed her tears, only to be released by relief. "Oh, Klucky."

Kluck's warm smile put Marian at ease. "Now, turn around, and I'll vizzie this hole of yours."

Marian spun again, this time under her own power. She lifted her tail.

Kluck clicked her tongue. "Och. It's a big one. I'm afeared you'll need to take the dress off."

Pride welled within Marian, and an interjection leapt out of her. "Ooh." The size of the tear in her dress was a badge of honor, a testament to her growth, and she was too pleased to hear Kluck remark on it.

She leaned down to grab the hem of her dress. The bend squeezed her bulging tummy. While she nabbed the hem hanging by her feet, she noticed that even her toes had changed. They had shortened a little, and their nails came in thicker, sturdier. Marian lifted her dress' hem past her chubby calves. Her legs looked so round and healthy, thickened under mild layers of pudge. How charming that such legs should belong to her. Above, her thighs brushed each other with flab. Their broad sweep, so soft and tender, left no gap.

She pulled her hem up to her lower hips. Her dress strained around her thick hips and protruding rump. She continued upward, but her dress didn't move. As she tugged the dress, it jostled her fatty backside and dug into her girthy sides. Over her front, the dress even cinched her flabby mound. The pinch on her flabby flesh and the jiggle in her wobbly rump would have been fun if she hadn't been in the middle of a fitting. The mixture of pleasure and defeat flustered her, and she tugged harder.

From behind, Kluck called out. "In need of assistance?" Her voice wavered awkwardly.

Marian grunted. "No, no, I've got it." Inch by inch, she forced the dress upward. It bit hard into her round cheeks, and it pinched sharp on her plump hips. Her fingers, gripping the gathered dress, knuckled into her fat sides. She winced with pain, but she kept going. Her butt flopped free, her hips poured out, and the dress popped up from her haunches. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her tail slipped out easily through the hole in the back of her dress. Fresh air brushed her bare cheeks and mound, relaxing her.

Next came an impossible task. The dress had been difficult enough to fit over her stomach that morning, and that had been before breakfast and lunch. Her tummy didn't even have the benefit of a tear to make room, like her butt had. Marian pulled again, but her dress hiked up into her underbelly, not around it. It even caught on her love handles. The effort was like pushing against a wall. A fluffy, jiggly wall, but a wall nonetheless. Her belly joined her waist and back fat to dam her clothing. Panic tightened her chest as she felt trapped. "I may need some help here."

"Not to worry. This old bird knows a thing or two about a big body in wee clothes." Kluck's hands gripped the back of the dress. "Now suck in, best as you can."

Marian did just that. With a big gulp of air, she expanded her chest and pressed her breasts against her dress. Below, her midsection slimmed, pulling its wobbly pudge inward. Together with Kluck, she tugged the dress slowly up her waist. Her fat poured out under it like dough from under a rolling pin. She felt flab gush free until the dress hit under her breasts. What big udders, she reflected. She finally breathed out. Her naked underbelly slouched into her flabby pelvis. "Thank you. Could you keep lifting over my chest?"

Kluck complied.

For her part, Marian pressed down on her chest. Her breasts had fattened into squishy jugs, laden with lard. They rubbed bare against her dress. She mashed them down through her rising dress, pressing her fingers deep into their plush pudge, and they plopped onto her belly. Her breast fat clapped her belly fat gleefully.

Then, she held her arms upward. This was the easy part.

Kluck pulled the dress off. Then, she walked around to Marian's front side, holding the dress. "I dare say, you'll need more than a patch over that hole. You'll be needing a new dress. I have to wonder, how does--nay, I shouldn't."

Marian's interest was piqued. "Shouldn't what?"

"I've already run my beak enough." Kluck batted her hand.

"It's alright. What's on your mind?"

Kluck frowned, seemingly reluctant to continue. "Robin. How's he taken to all this?"

"Oh." Marian's mind filled with visions of Robin's throbbing cock. She recalled the way he groped her growing curves. That morning, he had plowed her so hard that she feared the bed would break. Warmth bloomed in Marian's cheeks, and she giggled. "He's alright with it. He's such a silly man. My stomach must be his favorite." She cradled it, swaddling its flab lovingly. She rather liked it herself. "In fact, he's been the one mending my dresses so far. You know I'm quite skilled at the loom and the needle, but I was shocked to learn that Robin is, too. He said all those years on the run taught him a thing or two."

Kluck raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That's mighty kind of him. But we should get you to a proper fitting."

They quit badminton for the day. Marian's weight had torn through the time allotted for herself. It would spill right into the time for preparing dinner.

Marian's appetites fit into a small, petite space between all of her responsibilities. On one day alone, she taught daily school, sewed clothing, and prepared dinner. She also picked up whatever Robin did not complete, which on that day meant reviewing tax income. No responsibility occupied the time between sewing and dinner. So, Marian slotted badminton into that slender space. She had to take care to conclude the game on time. Otherwise, she risked overflowing the time that belonged to her.

The sun had only just begun its descent, reclining from its peak while still basking the castle courtyard in warm light. An easy breeze relieved the summer heat and carried the fragrance of nearby flowers.

Marian, racket in hand, faced a long, white net. In the prior week, her body had accumulated a wealth of softness. Fresh pudge lined her calves, causing them to bounce, and it thickened her thighs, rubbing them constantly. Shamefully, their soft, colliding flesh felt more like a relaxing massage. Widened hips pulled her dress taut. The curves looked daring and alluring, which is to say, not at all appropriate for a demure woman of her station. Above, flesh rounded her midsection. It cushioned her waist and plumped her stomach into the front of her dress, swollen within cloth confines. Her stomach's padding introduced a welcome, soft reinforcement to her frame, even though she should have been slight and frail. Her portly breasts bulged not with milk but with fat. They were excessive, as if she could not help but puff out her chest. It puffed out with fat all on its own. Her newly flabby arms held up her racket, while she looked over bubbly cheeks. Her face felt fuller, more merry. It gave her an appearance of pleasure, when she should have been sober.

On the other side of the net stood Klucky with her racket and the shuttlecock. Though her gown was long and flowing, her girth left no contour to the imagination. Her vast hips and immense waist stretched the garment tight over her rotund gut, which weighed far down her legs. Two colossal breasts filled her neckline. Even with the aid of a supportive brassiere, her bosom was so heavy that it sloshed visibly, especially during such energetic activity as badminton. A chunky rim of fat supported her neck. Her appearance was soft and comforting, like a warm bowl of porridge.

Kluck threw the shuttlecock upward, tossing her breasts aside. Then, she batted it with the racket, jostling her gut while sending the shuttlecock to Marian's side of the net.

The shuttlecock's trajectory carried it towards the left side of the court.

"I've got it!" Marian rushed for the badminton missile. She darted, pushing hard with one leg while swinging her other leg ahead. Her meaty thigh squashed her belly from beneath. Her thickened hips twisted and pulled her dress firm over her bubbly backside. In kind, her behind pushed its plump flesh out against her dress. Every movement reminded Marian of how plush she had grown.

In the war between her rump's cheeks and her dress, her rump won. Under her tail, her derriere popped her dress' seams in rapid succession. It uttered a loud, unmistakable rip. She halted to the best of her ability, though her extra heft carried her momentum. It threw her off balance. She hurtled to the ground, where she fell beside the shuttlecock among fresh grass. "Oof!" Though the ground hit her fast, her softened physique absorbed much of the impact. She leaned up on an elbow, onto her side, scrunching her waist's rolls into each other. Heat flooded her cheeks. It wasn't her most graceful moment.

Across the court, Kluck stared down at her with a cheeky grin and her hands on her hips. "Got a wee bit of a rive there, have you?"

Marian put a hand behind her and reached under her tail. Her fingertips found squishy flab, covered in thinning fur, pressing out through a brand new hole down the back of her dress. Her butt crack puckered through the rip. "A bit of one, yes." As she sat fully upright, her belly pushed hard against her dress. The constricting garment compressed her flabby middle painfully and mashed a dull ache into her back. Once she rose to her feet, her middle fit a little easier. She brushed herself off.

At the same time, Kluck waddled to her, sloshing her wide bulk side to side with ungainly steps. "Let's take you inside for a spot of mending."

"Really, it's no problem at all." Marian bent over to grab the shuttlecock. After a loud tear, she felt more air brush her backside. She had just pushed more flab through the seat of her dress. "On second thought, perhaps we ought to do that." She left the shuttlecock on the ground as she stood straight.

Kluck put her wing around Marian's back. "Come, we'll get you fixed right up in the dressing room." She held Marian close to her fluffy, bulbous side. No matter what, that fatty feeling soothed Marian.

The pair travelled like that, Marian under Kluck's wing, towards the castle. They shared an awkward silence interrupted only by rustling grass under their feet. They approached the castle from the side to a wide, wooden door.

Kluck opened the door and guided Marian inward. Ahead was a stony corridor leading to the halfway point of the main hallway.

Marian nodded her head. "Thank you."

While they walked to the main hallway, Marian's generous hips swayed with their newfound curves. Her side grinded and rustled against Kluck's fulsome waist, like rubbing two overstuffed cushions on each other. It was a strange sense of camaraderie, the way Marian's fat met Kluck's.

At the main hallway, Kluck turned right. To their left was the kitchen; to their right, the fitting room. Again, Kluck turned right, and she opened the door. This time, she led Marian into a room of threads and needles, with a workbench and a loom. Kluck shut the door. The two were alone.

Kluck stared at Marian's face. Her beak pursed, and her eyes squinted.

Marian waited for her to do something. "Quite alright, Klucky?" She wanted to weather this situation without scrutiny of her person, but knowing Kluck, scrutiny was inescapable.

Kluck put her hand under Marian's soft chin. "Has your nose always been so dull?"

The answer was no. Marian had noticed the same thing, that her nose had expanded and flattened. Her former button nose had broadened from a pinprick into a thumbprint. Still, she laughed it off. "Oh, you must be seeing things." Marian didn't know how to tell herself that she was changing, to say nothing of explaining the matter to Kluck.

Unpersuaded, Kluck stroked along Marian's jawline. "And your fur. War't it a fair bit longer? It looks so short now. It used to wash you in thick sweeps of hair, but now, it barely covers your skin."

Marian pulled her hood down from her scalp. She had to get undressed to move things along and get out of the conversation. "Really. I don't see the purpose of inspecting my coat. We retired to mend my dress."

Kluck gasped when she saw Marian's bare scalp. "Your ears! Don't you see how they swacken?" She pinched one of Marian's ears in her fingers and held it straight up. As soon as she let go, though, it slumped slightly downward.

Day after day, Marian had watched these changes unfold on her body. She had lied to herself, unable to face reality. But here, alone with her lady in waiting, there was no hiding.

The old Scotswoman was no simpleton.

For Marian, the fear of change mingled with excitement. "To be perfectly forthright, I may have done something foolish." She looked aside. Saying the words was hard enough without facing Kluck. To bare her whims was to admit her irrational, shameful decision.

Kluck cocked her head. "Out with it, nacket."

"I drank a potion. That is--you see, it was a special kind of potion. Have you ever noticed a difference between the reflection in a mirror and your own self?" Marian found no sensible way to begin her confession.

"You're blathering nonsense. This potion wouldn't be of an intoxicating sort, would it?" Kluck's narrowed eyes evidenced her skepticism.

That was exactly what Marian needed. When she heard the potion maligned, Marian's heart pushed back. Her withering indecision slowly fortified into certainty in her chest, and she faced Kluck directly. "Not at all. This potion, it's having a good effect on me. A rather good effect. You might not agree, and others might not agree, but it makes me more... true. This change isn't a matter of desire. I'm already a pig. This is simply my body catching up."

Kluck's eyes darted up and down. Something brewed within her mind. In all likelihood, the fantastical nature of Marian's confession challenged her. "A pig, you say? That must have been some potion. I dinnae smell any ale on your breath, though. Mayhaps you ate a mushroom?"

Marian clasped her hands over Kluck's. "Klucky. I don't know what was in the potion. All that matters is that I'm growing into a swine." Her heart thumped anxiously.

Kluck ripped her hands away from Marian's grasp. "I'll say. Your fingers are hard, like--like hooves..." She waddled to Marian's backside. "And your tail. There's no doubt that it's become shorter. Used to go down to your ankles, now it just reaches your knees." She gripped Marian's shoulders and twisted her to face her. Kluck's eyes widened, and her voice bellowed. "Heaven's sakes, what have you done?"

From the corners of Marian's eyes, water welled. "I've found myself. Here I am. Well, not quite. But I'm getting here. It would mean quite a lot to me if you still loved me, although I understand if you don't."

With a deep breath, Kluck heaved her broad bosom. "Of course I love you, lass. Don't be so silly. I only rather you'd have asked me first."

Marian's chest tensed. "Oh? And if I informed you that I possessed a potion that would transform me into a pig, what would you have advised?"

Kluck flapped her wings. "Spill it on the ground! What business have you toying with your flesh and bone? Not to mention, your flesh and bone is the envy of so many across the land." There was nothing Kluck could say that Marian hadn't already considered.

"I will confess, I will miss that. Even now, I feel the difference in how my subjects regard me. Where there were smiles of easy attention, there are now frowns of obligation. I suspect it will only intensify. But I am still Countess. And, more importantly, I am still Marian. I value your judgment, but this was a decision only for me." So certain of her decision, yet wary of its consequences, Marian's nervousness weighed in her gut.

Shaking her head, Kluck crossed her arms. "I don't approve. I think you should find a potion to reverse this nonsense immediately. But I know two things about my lassie, Marian. The first is that, once a thought enters her mind, it cannae be dispelled. The second is that she's sharp as a tack. I'm not so sure about this whole pig enterprise. But if you are sure, that is all I need to know."

Marian mulled over those words. "That's about as clear as mud. Are you with me or not?"

With furrowed brows, Kluck glared at her. A silent brawl must have taken place behind her eyes. At last, she spoke. "I'm conflummixt. But, if nothing else, I have a fondness for you that nothing can sunder."

Droplets broke from Marian's eyes and wet her cheeks. Anxiety had dammed her tears, only to be released by relief. "Oh, Klucky."

Kluck's warm smile put Marian at ease. "Now, turn around, and I'll vizzie this hole of yours."

Marian spun again, this time under her own power. She lifted her tail.

Kluck clicked her tongue. "Och. It's a big one. I'm afeared you'll need to take the dress off."

Pride welled within Marian, and an interjection leapt out of her. "Ooh." The size of the tear in her dress was a badge of honor, a testament to her growth, and she was too pleased to hear Kluck remark on it.

She leaned down to grab the hem of her dress. The bend squeezed her bulging tummy. While she nabbed the hem hanging by her feet, she noticed that even her toes had changed. They had shortened a little, and their nails came in thicker, sturdier. Marian lifted her dress' hem past her chubby calves. Her legs looked so round and healthy, thickened under mild layers of pudge. How charming that such legs should belong to her. Above, her thighs brushed each other with flab. Their broad sweep, so soft and tender, left no gap.

She pulled her hem up to her lower hips. Her dress strained around her thick hips and protruding rump. She continued upward, but her dress didn't move. As she tugged the dress, it jostled her fatty backside and dug into her girthy sides. Over her front, the dress even cinched her flabby mound. The pinch on her flabby flesh and the jiggle in her wobbly rump would have been fun if she hadn't been in the middle of a fitting. The mixture of pleasure and defeat flustered her, and she tugged harder.

From behind, Kluck called out. "In need of assistance?" Her voice wavered awkwardly.

Marian grunted. "No, no, I've got it." Inch by inch, she forced the dress upward. It bit hard into her round cheeks, and it pinched sharp on her plump hips. Her fingers, gripping the gathered dress, knuckled into her fat sides. She winced with pain, but she kept going. Her butt flopped free, her hips poured out, and the dress popped up from her haunches. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her tail slipped out easily through the hole in the back of her dress. Fresh air brushed her bare cheeks and mound, relaxing her.

Next came an impossible task. The dress had been difficult enough to fit over her stomach that morning, and that had been before breakfast and lunch. Her tummy didn't even have the benefit of a tear to make room, like her butt had. Marian pulled again, but her dress hiked up into her underbelly, not around it. It even caught on her love handles. The effort was like pushing against a wall. A fluffy, jiggly wall, but a wall nonetheless. Her belly joined her waist and back fat to dam her clothing. Panic tightened her chest as she felt trapped. "I may need some help here."

"Not to worry. This old bird knows a thing or two about a big body in wee clothes." Kluck's hands gripped the back of the dress. "Now suck in, best as you can."

Marian did just that. With a big gulp of air, she expanded her chest and pressed her breasts against her dress. Below, her midsection slimmed, pulling its wobbly pudge inward. Together with Kluck, she tugged the dress slowly up her waist. Her fat poured out under it like dough from under a rolling pin. She felt flab gush free until the dress hit under her breasts. What big udders, she reflected. She finally breathed out. Her naked underbelly slouched into her flabby pelvis. "Thank you. Could you keep lifting over my chest?"

Kluck complied.

For her part, Marian pressed down on her chest. Her breasts had fattened into squishy jugs, laden with lard. They rubbed bare against her dress. She mashed them down through her rising dress, pressing her fingers deep into their plush pudge, and they plopped onto her belly. Her breast fat clapped her belly fat gleefully.

Then, she held her arms upward. This was the easy part.

Kluck pulled the dress off. Then, she walked around to Marian's front side, holding the dress. "I dare say, you'll need more than a patch over that hole. You'll be needing a new dress. I have to wonder, how does--nay, I shouldn't."

Marian's interest was piqued. "Shouldn't what?"

"I've already run my beak enough." Kluck batted her hand.

"It's alright. What's on your mind?"

Kluck frowned, seemingly reluctant to continue. "Robin. How's he taken to all this?"

"Oh." Marian's mind filled with visions of Robin's throbbing cock. She recalled the way he groped her growing curves. That morning, he had plowed her so hard that she feared the bed would break. Warmth bloomed in Marian's cheeks, and she giggled. "He's alright with it. He's such a silly man. My stomach must be his favorite." She cradled it, swaddling its flab lovingly. She rather liked it herself. "In fact, he's been the one mending my dresses so far. You know I'm quite skilled at the loom and the needle, but I was shocked to learn that Robin is, too. He said all those years on the run taught him a thing or two."

Kluck raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That's mighty kind of him. But we should get you to a proper fitting."

They quit badminton for the day. Marian's weight had torn through the time allotted for herself. It would spill right into the time for preparing dinner.